The Broken Road
by Smurfette Le Peux
Summary: Sequel to Redemption. Ponyboy is the main character.
1. Chapter 1

I was known around school now as the guy who put Paul O'Neill behind bars.

The Socs regarded me wearily and the other Greasers looked at me oddly, like they couldn't decide if I was cool or someone who wimped it out. I didn't care. School was out. Just a couple more years of this bull and I would be away from everybody and off at college or working or something.

I had a scar on my left side from the knifing that took place a year ago. It was a cool looking scar, but one that brought back traumatic memories. Outside of school, it put me in the leagues of Tim Shepard's crew and other tuff hoods because I survived such an incident.

I was fifteen and kind of proud of that.

I didn't involve myself in further incidents that would require the need for the fuzz to show or that would get me in trouble because to be honest, I was lucky. I was lucky I got to stay with my brothers Darry and Sodapop because the whole O'Neill situation could have ended a lot worse.

I decided that I couldn't do much about being a Greaser but I could do something about my life. Something that would make sense to me—and that wouldn't get me killed.

* * *

It was summer holidays for me, but not for Darry or Sopapop. They were running around the house, getting ready for work while I lay in bed, trying to sleep.

"Ponyboy, ain't it about time you woke up?" Soda asked, pulling on his DX shirt. I groaned. No, it wasn't. Soda came over, removed the pillow from beneath my head, and whacked me with it. I was too lazy to continue with the pillow fight so I lay still as he hit me. I didn't mind. It was soft. He gave up trying to wake me and finally left me alone in the room.

I smiled to myself and rolled on my side, hoping the entire world would leave me alone so I could sleep. I wasn't so lucky. Darry came in.

"Ponyboy, you may be out of school but there's still work that you need to do. This house is a prime example. If it ain't clean by the time I'm back, you're dead meat," he said, sternly. I understood. I really did. I would do just about anything if they would let me get some sleep.

"Yeah Darry. I get it," I said sleepily without opening my eyes. He came over and rumpled my hair.

"Take it easy, Pony." I opened one eye and looked up at him. That was an odd thing for him to say. I had recovered from the stabbing. I'm not sure if Darry had. Something told me he probably wouldn't ever.

* * *

Johnny Cade came over and with the two of us, we were finished cleaning the house in no time. He was my best buddy and we didn't need to say a lot to make conversation with each other.

It was bizarre to the other members of our gang how well we understood each other without needing to say a word. We were just as comfortable in our silence as we were speaking to each other. I told him things that I wouldn't dare tell anybody else, even Soda.

We walked over to the vacant lot when we were finished to practice our football kicks.

"I think Darry's still cautious, you know? About leaving me alone and stuff," I was saying to Johnny.

"Can you blame him?" Johnny asked, hooking his thumbs into his pockets.

"Well—yes and no. It's been a year. I managed to stay in one piece for a whole year," I said. Johnny was quiet for a moment.

"You know, I would say Soda is more cautious. Honestly, when you were knifed Pony, it was Soda who really went to pieces. Darry kind of held it all in but Soda…holdin' it in ain't the way Soda does it," he said. I stopped. I hadn't known that. He had seemed fine enough when I saw him, even when I was still in the hospital. As for him being cautious, I guess I saw it a little. But not as much as Darry expressed it.

Johnny located our ball and ran forward to get it. We exchange kicks for a while then we heard somebody calling our names. It was Two-Bit Matthews.

"Hey there, boys! What's crackin'?" he said, cocking a rust coloured brow. I broke into a grin. It was always good to see Two-Bit. He always lightened things up.

"Hey Two-Bit, just practicin' kicks. Wanna join in?" I asked. Johnny came over and Two-Bit slung an arm around him.

"Nah, boys. Got some news. Dally is in the cooler again," he said. Johnny dropped the ball and I dropped my mouth open.

"He was at the store and he belted somebody. For which reason, I am unaware of but I'm sure it was warranted," he said seriously, than began chuckling. More to add to his rap sheet, I thought. He didn't know how to stay out of trouble with the cops.

I was ambivalent about Dallas Winston. On the one hand, he was one of the four boys I had grown up with and I was loyal towards. On the other hand, I didn't exactly like him because he was brutal and real and fully represented what being a hood was. I respected him though. He knew what was going on. Always.

"I doubt Sylvia will like it, man. She's a shady one. I always wondered what our bro Dally saw in her," Two-Bit said, lighting up a cigarette. We all paused for a smoke. Nothing like settling the mood with a weed. I glanced over at Johnny. Dallas was his idol and I could see he was both upset and filled with reverence for him. I didn't quite understand it but Johnny did so I didn't question it. I felt the same way about Soda, my wild and reckless brother.

"Wanna head over to the Dingo?" Two-Bit was asking. Johnny and I looked at each other. The Dingo was where the Greasers hung out and it had quite the reputation. There was always a fight going on and once a girl got shot. Still, it was summer vacation and there was nothing for us to do. The Dingo it was.

We climbed into Two-Bit's car and he was on the road, weaving through traffic. His driving was terrifying. He had no regard for stop lights and other cars and pedestrians. He beeped others even though they had the right of way. Johnny and I clung to our seats, wondering if we'd make it to the Dingo alive when Two-Bit made a sharp turn and we were in the parking lot.

We got out and started saying hi to all the Greasers we knew there. It was peaceful enough today. We went inside and ordered Pepsis. We sat down in a booth and watched the waitresses, saying all kinds of nasty things about them. Don't ask. It's just what we do. Especially with Two-Bit.

We were sitting around, drinking our Pepsis, and talking when Johnny looked up and his eyes went round. We looked around and saw who it was than our eyes went round too. It was Buck Merrill. He was way further into town than usual and when he saw us, he came over. I was instructed by both Darry and Soda to stay as far away from him as possible but they didn't say anything about him coming to us. He was tall, lanky, had buck teeth, and an Elvis-like pompadour. He managed the Slash J, the horse that Dally jockeyed for sometimes, and he had a reputation for being a sleazebag, a womanizer, a dirty player, and not in that order. He looked half as greasy as he was.

"Hey there folks," he said, grinning widely. Johnny ducked his head and I gave him a half hearted wave. Two-Bit returned the grin.

"Hi there Buck, whatcha doin' in these parts?" he asked.

"Heard Dallas got into some trouble. Went to post bail," he said. I wasn't aware they were that close. Last I heard, Dally hated Buck's guts, thought Buck clearly didn't know it.

"That's decent of you," Two-Bit said. Buck shrugged.

"Got a race comin' up. Dallas needs to get his shit sorted out beforehand," he explained. That was an understatement. Dallas DID need to get his shit sorted out and he sure as hell wasn't going to do it any time soon.

We left soon after.


	2. Chapter 2

When I came into the house, The Doors 'Light My Fire' was playing, Darry was cooking dinner, and Steve Randle and Soda were playing poker. The latter two were an incendiary combination. They got into so much trouble together. Steve was the more aggressive, cocky personality whereas Soda was reckless and charming and with those traits, they created more havoc than most people knew how to deal with.

Soda's happy-go-lucky personality had made its return since last year and he was grinning wildly at Steve because he'd called him on his bluff.

I thought about what Johnny said earlier in the day about Soda worrying about me. He had his own way of expressing things. I wondered how blind I was sometimes. Steve kicked Soda in the shins and the fight was on. They wrestled out of the coffee table and rolled around until they came to my feet.

"Hey there Ponyboy," Soda said, looking up at me. I shook my head at the two of them and went to the kitchen. Darry looked beat. He holds down two jobs and usually has little time to do anything but work. I felt bad.

"Anythin' I can do, Darry?" I asked.

"No, I'm finished," he said, wiping his hands on a towel. We had roast for dinner. It was a good thing Darry had cooked because who knows what Soda would have come up with. He was constantly experimenting and truth be told, there had been more than a few dishes that had been inedible.

"…so Buck posted Dally's bail," I said, giving a summary of my day. Steve raised his eyebrows so they touched the swirls that he greased around his head.

"Since when did Buck Merril get so generous?" he asked around a mouthful of food. I shrugged.

"Since he had a race comin' and needed Dally for the Slash J," I said. Soda perked up. Anything to do with horses was of interest to him since he was crazy about them.

"I've never seen Dally race," I added. Darry cleared his throat.

"And you never will, pass the green beans please," he said. I wanted to stomp on the iron fist that Darry used to set the rules in the house.

"I second that," Soda said, and I looked at him, not surprised now. Disappointed a little.

"I third that," Steve put in and I glared at him. He glared back.

"Honestly, he's our buddy. How is it that nobody's seen him race?" I questioned. I just heard the sound of mouths chewing. I turned to Soda, who was exchanging looks with Darry.

"It ain't a good environment for a fifteen year old," Darry answered.

"Neither is this neighbourhood, what's the diff?" At that, Darry gave me a nasty look.

"The _difference _is that Buck Merril will be there and all the disease filled activities that accompany him and I don't want my kid brother exposed to that," he said shortly. This was Darry's expression of care and concern. Unfortunately, my reaction to this form of expression was nearly always rebellion and aggravation. I kept quiet though. I was on the straight and narrow, after all.

"I ain't even crazy enough to go there, Pony. It's enough to make your head spin," Soda said trying to add some peace. Steve was oblivious to the tension and kept right at it. He didn't like me much because Soda liked to take me with them when they went out and he thought I was a 'kid'. It was almost like he 'put up' with me. I had issues with him too.

"Drugs, sex, fights, wild partyin'," Steve ticked off.

"Someone was killed once, too, wasn't they?" he added for effect.

"I get the picture," I said, sourly. Darry gave me a sigh.

"I sure hope you do, Ponyboy. I sure hope you do," he said, looking resigned all of the sudden. I bit my lip. I hadn't wanted to go THAT badly but clearly some issues lingered regarding my activities and my brothers' overprotection.

Before it used to be me against Darry and Soda always taking up for me but lately, it was the two of them double-teaming me. Needless to say, I didn't like it very much. Granted, I was given some freedom, they didn't lock me inside, but it still wasn't enough. It's not like I was going to get into some kind of rumble with Shepard's company, a race seemed innocent enough, but I was thinking it was about trust. Not lack of trust for me, but lack of trust for _them_ whoever _they_ were. They could've been Socs, other Greasers, hoods, other people, anybody.

I never had to worry about getting hurt again, it seemed.

* * *

We didn't see Dally for another few days. When he came around, he looked like a mess. His hair was longer than usual, he had scruff on his chin, he wore light denim that was frayed around the edges, and his eyes were intense. The ring that he had given Sylvia to wear was back on his finger. Steve asked about it.

"Two-timin' broad," was all he said. He smoked and didn't say much about being in jail or the incident that put him there. We didn't ask. You just didn't ask Dally unless he started talking first. The only person probably allowed to ask questions was Johnny—but he never did.

I sat silently and watched Dally.

Out of all of us, I knew the least about him. His father was around, somewhere, and his mother had run off, he had no siblings, no family foundation to speak of. He lived in New York for a while where he witnessed a lot of chaos, which explained his nature, came back to Tulsa, and got in with every hood on the East Side. The fuzz knew him like one of their own and he was hauled in for everything that happened in our neighbourhood. He was one of Tim Shepard's best friends and one of our family, but I didn't know him, and that bugged me. Sure, we had developed, I didn't want to say closer but that's all I can come up with, relationship since last year but my original opinion of him still stayed relatively stable.

I didn't like him too much and he scared me. But I knew he had my back. So I had his.

I'm not sure if I wanted to know what went on in his mind though. Or maybe I did. A little.

Johnny had come around and the two of them together was like watching me and Soda. Maybe Darry would be a better comparison. While Johnny was Johnnycake to all of us, everybody's kid brother, he and Dally had something special. As I said before, Johnny worshipped Dally, but Dally loved Johnny. Moreso than other person. I'm not sure if Dally Winston even loved other people. But Johnny was his buddy and God forbid if anybody ever touched Johnny Cade and Dallas found out about it… I shivered and rubbed both of my arms.

"You cold there, Ponyboy?"

"Nope."

* * *

Mortality was always on the forefront of my mind. Ever since mom and dad died and especially since my near-death experience. The thought of losing Sodapop or Darry terrified me. Life could be taken from you so easily, or you could lose someone, just like that. We were just flesh and bone.

You were lucky if you lived on the East side and never gotten into a scrape so we were faced daily with not necessarily mortality, but our vulnerability.

What Greaser likes to think of himself as vulnerable?

But we were. We were vulnerable to other Greasers, to Socs, to poverty, to the fuzz. It was like walking around naked, and alone while knives were being thrown at you, open to every possible sense of negativity out there. I wondered constantly what I could do to avoid the negativity. I wondered constantly whether or not you could make it out of here unscathed.

Could I have the life I wanted? Could Soda or Darry? They were both smart, streetwise, and tuff, but would they get the life that they deserved? I, for a second, understood their reasons for being so strict with me, because I was starting to worry.

A lot.

Sodapop wasn't going to spend the rest of his life at the DX. He was going to go on to better things and he and Sandy would get married and have children and get out of the East side. Darry, once I was out of his hair, would do the same.

I needed some reassurance.

* * *

"You know why we are the way we are with you, right Pony?" Soda asked as we lay in bed. I turned to look at his profile. He had the pale, ethereal handsomeness of a movie star and his finely drawn face gave him so much attention, I wondered how he could stand it.

"Darry and I know you're tuff, Ponyboy. But sometimes it scares us something awful with the ideas you come up with. We almost lost you once and we ain't itchin' to have that happen again, get it?"

"Yeah, but you need to trust me too."

"Ain't got nothin' to do with trust, Pony,"—I disagreed with him there, "It ain't easy out there and it sure is dangerous. We're just tryin' to look out for you. We're all that we have left and I don't want us to end up like Dally or Shepard."

"End up like them how, Soda?"

"Cold and hard. I don't know what's happenin' inside of Dally but I know that he has a hatred for the world and the people in it that's darn scary. He's alone and he chooses to make it that way, too. Sure he's got us, but sometimes that ain't enough. He's got nothin' to lose and that's why he acts out the way he does. When you got nothin' to lose, you become a danger to yourself and to the world. I ain't about to let that happen to you."

Some people might have called Sodapop stupid, especially because he dropped out of school. But I reckoned they'd never had a conversation with him about things he understood because he was pretty damned smart about them.

"It ain't."

"I hope to God it doesn't, Ponyboy."


	3. Chapter 3

I had this feeling of things closing in on me.

I felt buried deep inside the rubble, unable to claw my way out, and that if I didn't, I would explode.

I had been okay for a year. At least I thought I had been but as I sat alone against the gnarled old oak that was a sanctuary with my journal, I admit that I was denying things to myself. I pretended that the memories of things that happened didn't bother me, that I didn't have nightmares, that I wasn't jumpy, that I wasn't over thinking things.

Violence punctuated my life.

I was drawn to it, repelled by it, hooked in, line, sinker, nearly died from it, and breathed it in every single day.

My whole existence was violent.

I was a Greaser, but I was a sensitive Greaser and that was a dangerous way to be.

I wrote and wrote, filling up pages of the journal with the thoughts that echoed in my mind.

I promised myself I would be okay because I couldn't afford to not be okay. It's expensive to be depressed and not just monetarily. It drains you and those around you and I know that with my troubles, I cost my family a fortune.

I was sick and tired of being such a burden on my brothers.

Darry was working too, fucking hard at 21 years old. Physically, emotionally, psychologically. And he kept it all in, trying to preserve all the remaining strength he had to complete the armour he had against the world. He was stoic and firm on the outside, but inside, I wondered what the strain was doing to him.

Sodapop was different. He expressed his feelings outwardly and through outlets, like drag racing and fighting. He wasn't suppressing anything and he was probably a lot more emotionally healthy than Darry and I because he got it out, and he understood things.

Darry was black and white and I was too self centered to thinkg about the other perspective. It made sense that Soda was a Libra, the scales. He balanced every thing out.

I could feel my mood blacken.

I felt this sudden urge to take the pen and stab it through my hand but I didn't. I'd heard about self mutilation before and I never thought I'd be the type to do it. But I needed an outlet for the crazy, twisted, wires of thought that went through my mind and writing wasn't cutting it. I wasn't about to go beating anybody up; I'd had enough of that. There had to be other ways.

Suppressing the pain was eating me alive.

I couldn't lie to myself anymore. My first instinct was to run away, but I knew that wasn't the answer.

But sometimes, knowing that something isn't the answer doesn't stop you from doing it.

* * *

I wanted to go to the country. I needed to get away and the country brought back memories of when mom and dad were alive and things were okay. There were no Greasers or Socs, no fighting, no politics, just peaceful, simple living. It was beautiful too. I remembered walking through forests with the branches of the trees arched over top, letting in slivers of sunlight, leaves cascading down. We used to go fishing and hiking and it was always fun and made me feel alive. I felt rejuvenated after being in nature 'cause I was surrounded by concrete and trash and disrepair most of the time.

Who wouldn't feel better?

I mentioned the country to Johnny when he came over one day.

"You can see the sunset real well there and it has all this wide open land. Farms, and lakes, and streams. All real pretty," I said, laying on my bed.

"I've never been out to the country before. I've never left this neighbourhood in my whole life," he said. I got up on my elbows and stared at him in shock.

"My parents ain't exactly travelers," he said. He looked out the window.

Johnny's parents didn't give a damn about him. He came and went as he pleased, was constantly on the end of his mother's vicious verbal assaults, and the end of the stick his father used to smack him with. Johnny was like me. Sensitive. People like Dally could take abuse. Johnny let it affect him emotionally and he always had a deeply scared, sad expression in his brown eyes. He was high strung and his fucked up parents did everything they could to break him. He was broken enough. We tried to protect him the best we could but it's hard when your own folks can't stand you. Nothing can take the place of your parents and their love for you.

I could feel myself getting depressed again.

"Hey Pony, you know what? We should go out to the country. Get away from here. We can do all those things you're talking about," Johnny said, suddenly animated.

"I doubt any of the gang would want to go. Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit would be bored to death and Dally, well, you know him." Johnny sat down, deflated. It would have been a good plan. Johnny and I sat together, a grey cloud hovering above us for the rest of the day.

* * *

It gnawed at me and I suddenly realized I didn't want to give up on the idea of heading out to the country and getting out of town for a while. I brought it up the next time the whole group was together.

"Let's all head out to the country," I said. Two-Bit whirled around.

"For what?"

"For fun, what else? We could go hiking or fishin'. We'd make it interesting." Steve gave me a strange look.

"Hikin'?"

"Ain't you been to the country before, Steve? Nature stuff, you know?" Sodapop said. They all seemed to be digesting the idea.

"How many of y'all have been out to the country before?" I asked.

"I sure haven't. There's nothin' to do out there," Steve said. Two-Bit grunted in agreement. I had an idea. I looked at Soda who looked back with a quizzical expression.

"I know how to drive…," I said, trailing off.

"So do I," said Johnny. Soda sighed.

"You need to talk to Darry."

* * *

It took us an hour to get to the country. Johnny and I sat mostly in silence as Johnny drove (I didn't have my learner's permit yet). We escaped from the dilapidated homes, from the factories, and went forward into the clean, open expanse of the country.

It was so refreshing to see this scenery. We started talking once we passed the farms and hit the open land.

"It's beautiful out here, Pony," Johnny said.

"Yeah. It is." He drove on, sticking to the speed limit. Darry had been surprisingly okay about letting us take the Ford out. He knew Johnny was responsible and would get us back in one piece.

"Is there where your parents took y'all?"

"I think so." We saw a diner next to the road and pulled in. We'd hike onwards from there.

"Where are we?"

"I guess we'll find out." The waitress in the diner told us we were in Windrixville. That sounded familiar. We ordered sandwiches and ate them as quickly as possible so that we could get the day started. Johnny's face was serene and he looked more relaxed than usual as we started walking.

"It's nice to be out of town. It's just the way you described," he said. I kicked a rock with my tennis shoe.

"Ain't it?" The sky was clear blue, filled with fluffy white clouds, and there was a slight breeze in the air.

I felt calmed, and allowed the tension and twisted avenues of thought to seep out of me as I breathed in the scents. I was away from the chaotic turmoil of living in that neighbourhood and in the deep peace that was the country. We came upon a hill and at the top of the hill was an old building. Johnny and I looked at each other.

"Wanna check it out?"

"Yeah." It took us half an hour to climb the hill and we were sweating by the time we reached the top but it was worth it. The building turned out to be an old church and it was beautiful. It was ivory with a bell tower and it looked abandoned. The doors were sealed shut. I had a thing for old, abandoned buildings. I think all the reading I did had something to do with it. It was like being transported back in time to a place where women wore bonnets and men wore pants held up with suspenders and they had town meetings and such.

"Gosh, but the view is pretty up here," Johnny said. I looked around and agreed with him. There was a lake right at the bottom and trees all around and flowers dotting the grass. We could see rolling hills and the golden line that was the horizon. I bet it would be real pretty during sunset. I sat down on the front steps of the church and had a cigarette. Johnny joined me.

"It feels real good to be here, Pony. Like being away from troubles, even. Everything is so peaceful and alive out here," he said. I took a puff, agreeing with him.

"I wish that it could be like this all the time."

"Things will be different for us one day, Johnny."

"I dunno. How does a grease escape from being a grease? It's a constant uphill battle and it's like you never win," he said, looking pessimistic.

"You can win if you have the love and support of those around you. You have all of ours Johnny. You can do whatever you want with your life and succeed if you just set your mind to it." I believed it, too. Johnny was slow to get things, but once he did, he explored them and found more things in them than people ever realized.

He could make it, too. He didn't have to have a lousy life forever.

"I hope you're right Pony. I don't think I can take it otherwise. I'd kill myself." I put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't sell yourself short. If I was able to survive all those things that happened to me, so could you. Greasers don't have money, but we got resilience and nobody's gonna take that from us." Johnny gave me a weak smile.

"And if they do."

"Then we'll just have to kill them."

We stayed until sunset. It was beyond beautiful. Flawless blue becoming burnt sienna weaving gently into pink and gold, we watched until the flaming orb of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

"Come on, Johnny, let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

Dally raced with the Slash J and won.

Buck Merril was celebrating with a big party at the edge of town where there was going to be booze, drugs, women, and sex.

I'd heard about threesomes and orgies at his parties and wouldn't surprise me if they did more than that there. The entire house was encapsulated in vices and deviant behaviour and, according to my brothers, filth. I was curious, to say the least.

I wasn't any innocent.

I'd seen my fair share of things that would make your hair stand on end, but not to the extent of Buck Merril and the goings on at his place. I hadn't had fun in a while. I wanted to go. There was no way that Dally was going to let me tag along with him, but I knew Buck. I just had to bully him to let me in.

I wasn't about to let anybody know where I was going. I didn't want to end up in one of Buck's rooms anyway. I heard stories of what happened in those bedrooms and I was terrified enough of women that it turned my ears red. I had gotten picked up a few times by girls, greasy girls, and I didn't know how to handle myself around them yet. The ones who'd approached me either wore too much make up, swore too much, or were too aggressive and though I tried to be cool as a cucumber when they were around, they scared me.

The only girl I hadn't been nervous around was Cherry Valance, the beautiful, redheaded Socy cheerleader who helped me put Paul O'Neill behind bars. I could be myself around her because I didn't care what she thought of me. I don't know why. Maybe it was indifference. She was a real looker though.

I didn't know what was going to happen at that party but my curiosity overrode every other part of my mind. I was fifteen and felt the need to expand my horizons.

* * *

I told Darry I was spending the night at a friend's house. He grilled me about it for a bit but I convinced him. Sometimes reading a lot helps. You become a real good liar.

I arrived at nine o'clock and rung the doorbell. It took a while for someone to answer but soon Buck came to the door. He looked down at me, his pompadour, higher than ever.

"What'd ya want, kid?"

"I'm here for Dally," I lied. Well, that wasn't a lie exactly. Buck wasn't budging.

"He ain't even here yet, kid. Go home," he made to close the door, but I stuck my foot inside.

"He wants me to be here. Trust me. Ask him," I said firmly. Buck rolled his eyes.

"Whatever kid," he said and let me in. He was already half drunk and letting me in the party spoke volumes about his judgement. Loud country music was playing in the background and I heard whoops and shouts. My palms were clammy and I realized that this was probably the bravest thing I've ever done. It could potentially be among the stupidest too. I went into the main room of the house and the party was in full swing. People were dancing and climbing over each other and drinking and smoking and kissing. I could handle that. Someone tapped my shoulder and a big bosomed woman wearing too much lipstick winked at me.

"How ya doin' there, cutie? Wanna dance?" I shook my head no and found a seat on the couch next to a couple who were necking. They ignored me and when his hand slipped up her thigh, I turned away. Pretty soon, somebody put a drink in my hand. I took a sip. It was a beer.I'd gotten drunk once with Curly Shepard and when Darry found out, he ground me for two weeks. I thought I would be okay though. I remembered all too well what it was like to be hungover so I wasn't itchin' to get back to that state. I took another sip and watched girls wearing too tight clothing dance with half crocked guys. They were all over each other and the music was plain awful. But it was loud and there was an energy in the room. A kind of sizzling excitement that permeated everything and put everybody in a good mood.

I finished my beer and somebody quickly filled it up. There were guys hanging off of the furniture, people whooping and shouting expletives, and the floor was wet with booze. The couple next to me were still necking and a girl joined them on the couch and began to neck with them. I felt like a voyeur, and drank a gulp of beer quickly.

After a few minutes, the newcomer crawled over to me and put her face next to mine. She was pretty. In the dark at least. I could smell whisky on her breath.

"Hey honey," she purred. I stayed still, watching her nervously.

"You're really cute," she murmured, putting a hand on my leg. She leaned closer and brushed her lips across my cheek. I gripped the beer. She took the beer and settled it on the coffee table and returned to me. She bent in and began to kiss me. I kissed her back. She used her tongue to force my lips open and soon her tongue was touching mine. She closed her lips around mine. She kissed me so passionately that it was overwhelming. Her hand went up to my hair and she was running her hands through it, then grabbing it. We kissed for a long time. Finally she pulled away and smiled at me. She leaned forward to peck me once more on the lips.

"Not bad kid. Not bad at all," she said, and got up and disappeared into the crowd. I took a deep breath and smiled to myself. Wow. Before I knew it, she had returned with a bottle in her hands and she was pulling me up.

"Let's dance," she said. I got instantly nervous. I didn't know how to dance. We made it onto the crowded dance floor and she squeezed next to me, bottle in hand and all, and we moved to the horrible country music playing in the background.

"What's your name?" She had to shout.

"Ponyboy! What's yours?"

"Ivy!" She was a real good dancer and guided me so I hoped I didn't look too foolish. She raised the bottle to my lips.

"Drink!" I did and when the blast of whisky hit me, I start coughing. She was laughing and swigging away. Suddenly the room erupted in shouts and I turned my head to see Dallas walking in. He had a wide grin on his face and was carrying a trophy. People were patting him on the back and girls were kissing him on the face and grabbing at him. Buck was with him and they were hi fiving it all around. I quickly turned and ducked my head. I wasn't about to let Dally see me here. Somebody turned up the music even louder and everybody went crazy. Ivy was pulling me to the kitchen.

"Let's do some blow," she said. The kitchen had about seven people in it and a ton of drug paraphernalia. I gulped.

"Hey Ivy, who do you have with you?" a lanky, sleepy eyed guy said who was sitting on the floor. She turned to me. She looked even better in the light. Her hair was long and brown and she had real pretty blue eyes.

"What's your name again? I couldn't hear in the other room," she said.

"Er…Christopher," I lied, thankful she didn't hear me while we were dancing. People would remember the name Ponyboy. But I saw the lot of them, sprawled on the floor, drugged out of their minds. Maybe they wouldn't remember it but it was better to be safe than sorry. On the counter was mirror and there were white lines on it. Ivy leaned over and sniffed a whole line, and wiped her nose before turning to me.

"Your turn," she said but one of the people on the floor stopped her.

"Nah, give him some acid." I slowly shook my head. I wanted to. Badly. But my gut was saying it was a bad idea. I knew better than to go against my gut.

"No thanks," I said. Ivy did another line and looked at me. She shrugged.

"Your call," and went back to drugging. I looked in the fridge, found a beer, and popped open a can. Alcohol I could handle. I went around the house and saw people having sex on the floor, right where people could see them. This house was out of control. I finished the beer in about two seconds and it was starting to have an effect. I couldn't stop giggling. I walked through the house giggling at everything I was seeing and it was fun. I didn't need drugs, beer was my friend.

I went back to the kitchen where all the druggies were and somebody was pawing at me. I looked down and a wiry girl with enormous eyes was staring.

"You're so pretty. Look at all of your eyes," she said in a high voice. I bent down and touched her on the cheek.

"Thanks, thanks," I said. I took a gulp of beer and made my way to the hall where I saw Dally. And he saw me. He came forward in a flash and had me against the wall.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Ponyboy?" I shrugged him off, turned, and began walking up the stairs. For whatever reason, Dally let me.

I entered one of the bedrooms and there were about five naked people on the bed, necking and having sex. A girl looked up and saw me.

"Join in." At this point, I had drunk about seven beers, and for a person not used to alcohol, that's enough to impair your judgement. I began stripping.

* * *

I made out with five girls, lost my virginity to three, got crocked out of mind with beer and whisky, and had the time of my life that night.


	5. Chapter 5

I blinked, and realized my bare leg was touching a bare part of another human being. When I lifted my head, my head swam, and after a few seconds, I realized I was naked. I also happened to be surrounded by other naked bodies. The girl next to me was snoring lightly, and the guy next to me was snoring loudly.

I breathed in and then sat up slowly. My head was pounding and my mouth was sour and filled with cotton. There was a sharp pain between my eyes and I squeezed it with my fingers. I was the only one awake. There were more bodies on the floor, some covered with sheets, some covered by other bodies, all naked. I didn't want to wake any of them so I slithered as neatly as I could out of bed. When I stood up, I swayed. Christ. I picked way slowly through the floor and tried to find my clothes. After a few minutes, I located my jacket in the corner, bunched up with my other clothes.

Thank God they weren't underneath anybody.

I slipped into my clothes and left the room, looking for the bathroom. I found it, and there was a girl sleeping in the bathtub and a guy laid out next to the toilet. I swore and bent down to move the guy out of the way. He was dead to the world. I kind of dragged him and propped him next to the bathtub. I went to the bathroom, and it was a relief when I was finished. I went downstairs hoping to slip out quietly when I heard Dally's voice.

"Hey there Ponyboy," he said, not caring that people were sleeping in the house. His voice carried down the hall. I turned.

"Uh…hey Dally," I said.

"Wait a minute," he said. He disappeared for a second. I stopped, waiting for him. Gosh but my head hurt. I didn't want to know what was coming. He returned with a cup.

"Drink, it'll help your hangover," he said. I looked at him and realized he was amused. I drank.

"Thanks Dally. Um…listen…Soda and Darry--," I started but Dally put up a hand.

"I ain't tellin' them. Darry'd crack my head open too," he said, grinning. He leaned against the wall, staring at me.

"You had quite the night, Ponyboy, didn't you?"

"No," I lied. Dally laughed.

"There ain't another kind like you, Curtis." I didn't know what that meant so I shut up.

"Look, I gotta go," I said, putting the cup down.

"That's alright kid. I'll drive you," he said. I began to protest but stopped. I wasn't in any shape to walk, especially in the bright sunlight. We drove to my house in silence.

"Git goin' kid. I'm mighty proud of you," Dally said, sounding surprised at himself. I was shocked. Dally, proud of me? I spent the whole night engaging in scandalous behaviour and it was the only time in the world when Dallas Winston was proud of me. I just shook my head and got out of the car. There was nothing to say to that.

* * *

By the evening, I was over my hangover and felt relatively human again. I was in the bathroom, staring at myself. What exactly had I done last night? Had I entered manhood or the land of stupidity? I had a great time, don't get me wrong, but I crashed Buck Merril's party, got drunk, and had sex with three different girls. Was this really my idea of fun? I put my hand on the counter and peered into the mirror. Maybe it was the novelty of it? Whatever it was, it sure wasn't getting back to anybody.

It was my turn to cook dinner and I went to the kitchen to get out the two chickens I was going to bake. I couldn't stop thinking as I seasoned the chickens.

I couldn't even remember what the girls looked like. When the gang got together, sure we talked about girls, but we didn't REALLY talk. I'd never really even spoken to Soda about it.

This behaviour seemed to come out of nowhere.

Sure, before, I'd been able to recognize a good looking girl but I didn't care too much about it. But suddenly now, I realized I did and before last night, had known virtually nothing about girls. Soda was usually quiet about Sandy. She was a real nice girl with natural blond hair and blue eyes and she behaved herself. Evie I'd only met a few times when I went out with the Steve and Soda and the two girls and she seemed nice enough too. They were both our type, Greaser, but they didn't swear much and were good girls. Sylvia had cheated on Dally and he'd given both me and Johnny a lecture about girls after.

"You gotta size them up right. Lots of girls have their eye on something better, and once that something comes along, they'd leave you for it in the blink of an eye. You gotta be careful and not let them screw with you. You see Soda and Steve flirtin' with girls all the time but they're the lucky ones. They act like shitheads 'cause they take it for granted but don't be so stupid when your time comes along," he'd said, smoking a cigarette.

Take Sandy for granted? That didn't sound like Soda at all. Anybody who knew him knew he was madly in love with her. But Soda couldn't help the way he looked and that girls were attracted to him like honey draws flies. Steve…well his excuse was probably that he was just an asshole. Two-Bit had an obsession with blonds. He was on and off with Kathy but try to nail him down and he'd fly with the wind. Johnny was too shy and Darry too busy to even think about girls.

I thought I was shy and I guess I was, those girls last night had been forward, but for whatever reason, I hadn't been scared. Wait, that reason was probably the beer.

I couldn't really justify my behaviour.

I had been curious more than anything and now…well, that had been satiated. To the nth degree. But I was still confused. I had nobody to share my story with. I would just have to carry last night with me to the grave.

Soda came home first.

"How ya doin' there Ponyboy?"

"Not bad, Soda, not bad," I answered truthfully. He gave me a wry grin and took off his cap. His hair was all mussed up but that didn't, like anything really could, detract from looks. People said we looked alike all the time but I didn't believe it. I wondered when it was the first time he did it, but I wasn't going to ask him. That was too personal. Even for a conversation between Soda and I. He'd hit the roof if he knew what I did last night. He intuited something was up though. He watched me as he drank from the milk carton.

"What's up, Pony?" I was dying to tell him. I checked myself though.

"Just wondering something. How did you know Sandy was it? You know, the girl that you wanted?" He gazed at me thoughtfully.

"I dunno. It's something that you just know. It's like finding a puzzle piece that fits you perfectly. You don't second-guess it, you just go with it," he said.

"Why Ponyboy? Did you meet somebody?"

"Uh…no." I actually met three. Ivy had been cute. Even if she was a druggie.

"I'm just wonderin'"

"Okey doke."

* * *

So I didn't get into trouble with my exploits.

I did however, find myself relating more and more to Dallas Winston. He didn't bat an eyelash over things like sex and drugs and he'd congratulated me on it. I wasn't turning into him but I found myself being drawn to the darker side of human nature. It could have been because I was still depressed over life.

I found one of my journals and began reading. There were some pretty dark entries and some that would turn Darry or Soda's blood cold if they ever invaded my privacy.

Was it depression or was it the ordinary outlook of being a Greaser? Did knowing and experiencing too much make you wiser or sadder?

I thought of Soda who was happy-go-lucky and wondered how he could be that way. But then again, I knew the other, more complex side of Soda who knew things and saw things he wished he didn't. Darry wasn't particularly happy. Two-Bit saw the bright side of things but I'd seen it when his jaw clenched over the fact that Johnny had gotten beaten up. Dally it went without saying. Steve swearing bitterly over his father. But I thought about the Socs and how much time they spent fighting and getting drunk and realized they were just about as happy as we were.

There was blackness all around.


	6. Chapter 6

I couldn't get out of bed. I lay there, feeling waves of darkness sweeping over me.

I curled up and looked at the wall.

I couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was that was making me depressed but I knew that the world was dead to gray, slashed through with black, melting into swirls of slate. There was no brightness. No light. Nothing. Just a wide, cloud of misery that had made its home over me and it wasn't going to move any time soon.

I didn't want to hear anybody. I didn't want to see anybody. I didn't want do anything.

A wrecking ball could have slammed into the house and me and I wouldn't have cared. I fixed my eyes on a tiny hole in the wall, boring into it. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be dead or alive. I wasn't suicidal necessarily, but I was feeling self destructive. I envisioned myself taking a blade and gliding it across my skin like a knife going through butter and it felt good. It made me feel better to do that, to be destructive.

I had lied to myself again.

I had promised I would be on the straight path and look how much I had diverted from it. Lord knew I had that red button inside of me that was just beckoning to be pushed. I didn't know what to do with myself.

Maybe…maybe…just a little part of me wished that I had died last year.

Maybe being dead was better than feeling this way.

* * *

"I think this behaviour's gone on long enough," Darry said five days later. I looked up from the book I was reading in bed and stared at him.

"What behaviour, Darry?"

"This," he gestured toward me.

"You've been lyin' on that bed for the past week. You gotta start talkin' Ponyboy. What in God's name is the matter?" I didn't say anything. What could I say to Darry, really? He and I had communication styles that were so clashing that talking about what was wrong with me would raise a hailstorm.

"Nothin's the matter. I'm just relaxing. Ain't the summer holidays about relaxing?" I asked defensively.

"This ain't relaxin', kiddo. This is depression. As much as I hate to do this to you, I think it's time we set up that doctor's appointment so we can get you out of this," Darry said firmly. This time, I obliged.

* * *

Doctor Kaplan had graying hair and wore glasses. He sat in his chair and looked at me with a kind face.

"So what brings you here today, Ponyboy?" I shrugged. I was scared of doctors. I never quite knew what to say to them because anything that was said here could be repeated back to the state. But I was depressed and I needed help.

"Darry said I needed to come in. I think it's about the stuff that happened last year. You know all about it, right?" Kaplan nodded at me.

"Don't look so scared, Ponyboy. I'm here to help you, not hinder you." I relaxed a little.

"I'll remind you that everything you say here is confidential. You have nothing to worry about." Nothing to worry about, until the doc was subpoenaed for some reason.

"I'm just a little mixed up is all, doctor. I get nightmares sometimes," I said.

"What do these nightmares consist of?"

"I dunno. I never remember them when I wake up."

"You say you're mixed up. I take that to mean confused?" Ah great, I had to explain my lingo to him. I don't talk real good even though I get good grades.

"I just mean that so much has happened and it gets me down sometimes, you know? I feel as if everything is my fault and Darry and Soda are tryin' so hard but I'm always screwing up," I said. I felt like I was going to start crying.

"I'm sure you're doing your best, Ponyboy." I shrugged again.

"It doesn't seem like it's good enough. I just get these black feelings, you know. I can't get out of bed and I just want the world to shut down."

"How long have you felt this way?" Kaplan had put down his notepad and was looking at me now.

"For a while I guess. I did something real stupid the other day," I said and proceeded to tell him about Buck's wild party. He listened without saying a word.

"I had a great time and I really enjoyed…you know….but I made a promise to my brothers I wouldn't do anything stupid and sure enough I did. And while I was there I was swingin' between being depressed and being happy and it was like a pendulum goin' so fast that I was getting confused keeping track of it," I said, saying for the first time how I felt. It looked like

Kaplan made up his mind about something.

"I'm going to prescribe to you antidepressants. They should take into effect in about two weeks. Come back then and tell me how you're doing," he said writing on a prescription pad. I thanked him and took it.

"Why did it take so long to get depressed, doctor?"

"Well, depression manifests itself roughly around the age you're at now. For some people, it doesn't occur right away. It could be temporary or permanent. Right now, I'm treating this as a mild depression. For some, it has to do with the chemicals in your brain. Something called serotonin. Pills will help correct that."

"Oh, okay."

Pills. Great.

Darry was unsurprised when I told him. I wouldn't have but who was going to pay for those pills.

"I'm real sorry Darry," I said. He gave me a confused look.

"Why are you sorry? It ain't your fault. You'd had a rough time." He gave me a grin.

"Don't look so sad little buddy. Everything is going to be just fine."

He couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

It was a real nice morning. I had just finished watching the sunrise from the vacant lot, smoking a weed. I had cooked breakfast for my brothers and they were getting ready for work. They were scrambling around. Well, Soda was. Darry never scrambled. He was always organized. Discipline didn't seem to run in our family. Darry went to the gym, skied, was always punctual, he ran on a system. Soda flew by the seat of his pants. I did whatever felt comfortable at the time. That was just us, I guess.

The newspaper came and I flipped through it.

On the second page, in a small column down the right side, an article caught my eye. I started reading. It turned out a bunch of young men had cornered a young woman and began raping and beating her. She was beaten so severely that by the time she was found, she was unconscious. She died en route to the hospital. Her name hadn't been released, waiting for the next of kin to be notified. I felt sorry for her. I showed the newspaper article to Darry and Soda.

"I wonder if it's anybody we know," I said.

"I hope not," Soda said, eating his eggs and grape jelly.

During the afternoon, Dally and Johnny came by. Johnny was pale and Dally had a hard look on his face. I looked at them both, intuition telling me something horrible had happened.

"What's goin' on?" I asked. Dally took a cigarette and lit up. He leaned against the door frame leading into the kitchen while Johnny pushed his fists into his pockets.

"Angela Shepard was murdered last night, Pony," I said. I felt the ground drop from beneath me.

"Oh my God." I went to get the paper and passed it to Johnny. He took a look.

"Well, they notified them this mornin'," Johnny said. I looked over at Dally who said nothing. His eyes were blazing. The Shepard's seemed to have the worst luck. Curly had gotten jumped last year by Socs and now their sister was dead. I'd never met her but I'd heard plenty about her. Whatever it was I heard didn't warrant such a terrible thing happening to her.

"How…how are they?" I asked. It was stupid question.

"How do you think? Their mother's had a nervous breakdown and Tim and Curly…," his voice trailed off.

"There were no witnesses?" I asked, incredulous. I looked down at the article again. If it had been a Soc it would have taken up the entire front page. Dally blew out some smoke.

"I'm sure there were. But you know how it is, nobody says anythin'," he said, bitterly.

"They'll find out who did it. And when they do, there's gonna be hell to pay."

The cloud came back.

More violence and more death.

The feeling in my stomach was a slow, constant, gnawing pain.

I hadn't known Angela but I knew Tim and Curly and that was enough to hit home.

My depression worked itself back to the forefront. Pills nothing. Serotonin had nothing to do with it. It was the society, the world. There was blackness all around. All around the East side.

There was going to be hell alright.

I braced myself for it.


	7. Chapter 7

They had the funeral for Angela Shepard. Dally went. We were all at our house when he came back.

"It was Socs," he said, no expression on his face. I closed my eyes.

"One witness came forward. Semi-beatle haircuts, sweaters, nice car…" That was Socs alright.

"They'll never find 'em," Two-Bit said.

"They all look like that," Steve agreed. I hated to say it but I agreed too. Stuff happened to Greasers all the time but it was never a priority to cops. Even something as violent as this would be less of an issue for them in comparison to a mugging happening to a Soc. If I was a Shepard, I would go crazy. Christ. I was going crazy now.

Losing a loved one is like losing a part of yourself. You don't ever get that part back. I thought about the day I was told that my parents were dead. The pain never goes away. It stays constant, dull, but constant, in your head, your heart, the pit of your stomach.

Your mind screams with it sometimes.

"We should go see them," I suggested. Everybody turned to stare at me. I shrugged.

"They helped us out before. Lots of times. And Curly is my buddy. It ain't right that we don't pay our respects," I said.

"That's true," Darry said.

"Those poor Shepards," Soda said softly. I knew he was thinking about our parents—and probably the time I was nearly lost to them.

"It ain't fair that this happened to them," Steve said.

"It ain't fair this happened. Period," Two-Bit said.

I went to the bedroom and looked at the pills I should have been taking. Sorry Doc, but this ain't gonna help. I hid them in my drawer. Johnny came in.

"How're you doing, Pony?" he asked. He knew I was supposed to be on anti-depressants. He was the only one, outside of Darry and Soda. He could read me perfectly.

"I'm fine, Johnny. Perfectly fine." I wasn't. Of course. I could tell Johnny didn't believe, either.

* * *

The next day, Tim Shepard looked surprised to see all of us crowding his front step. We all entered his place, and stood around, unsure of what to do and what to say. Curly was laying down on the couch.

"Darry couldn't make it but he wants to send his condolences," I said. Tim scratched the back of his head. He looked tough and hard. I glanced down at Curly who was staring up at the ceiling, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Thank y'all for comin'. Have a seat if you can find one," he said. Curly sat up and made room for us. I sat on the floor, between Johnny and Soda. We all smoked. Tim tossed us cans of Pepsi. I took a gulp, struggling to find something to say.

"We're all sorry about what happened Tim," Two-Bit said.

"Yeah," Johnny added in a quiet voice. Tim smoked a cigarette, looking around at all of us.

"We want to track down that witness and see what else he has to say. The police say they're going to look into it but you how the fuzz are…," he said.

"We're gonna catch the bastards who did this," Curly said. He looked like he was going to start bawling, but caught himself in time. Even in this time of mourning, his pride got in the way of him showing his emotions. I wasn't so sure they'd catch who did this, but I kept it to myself, naturally.

"Yeah, you will," Steve put in. He was sitting next to Curly, and he put a hand on his shoulder. The mood was so dark that I felt nearly tearful myself. I think Soda picked up on my mood because he rubbed my shoulder.

"She was only 17. It was bad enough to beat her to death but to rape her…," Tim said sounding very dangerous. We didn't say anything. I finished the Pepsi.

I got up and went over to Tim. I was hesitant at first then I said to myself, 'Oh fuck it.' I hugged him and he seemed shocked. Then he slowly put his arms around me and hugged back. I felt him shaking a little. The next thing I knew, his body fell a little and I was holding him up. I heard muffled sobs.

Tim Shepard had broken down.

He cried in front of all of us. Curly stood up, shocked. Everybody was staring at us.

I didn't care. I let him cry in my arms.

He wasn't a Greaser. He was just a person who lost his little sister to a horrible crime. He finally unlocked his arms and he stood back, wiping his eyes.

"Thanks, kid," he said. I looked him in the eye.

"You're welcome."

It was the least I could do.

* * *

"AAAARRGGH!" I woke up in cold sweat. Soda was awake instantly and Darry came running in. I put my arms around myself and was shaking.

"Ponyboy! What is it?" Soda sounded scared. Darry sat down on the bed. I shook my head, breathing heavily.

"I dunno. A nightmare," I said.

"What was it about?" Darry asked, concerned. I still had my arms around me.

"I don't know. It was just a nightmare," I said. Darry left and came back with a wet towel. He wiped my face. I had my brothers with me. I was safe.

"I'm sorry I woke y'all up," I said. Soda put an arm around me. He had a serious look on his face.

"Are those pills helping at all, Ponyboy?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure Ponyboy?"

"Yeah. Positive."

I was such a liar. And I was getting sick of it.

* * *

Angela Shepard's name didn't show up in the paper ever again but the story was still big news to Greasers. It turned out a lot of people knew who Angela was and some were not even sympathetic, even though it had been the Socs, not anybody she messed around with.

"She was a slut."

"She sneaked around and caused trouble."

"It served her right."

A lot of the people who were judging her were girls. But she'd gotten around with plenty of guys too. Their reaction was different. It was like she didn't even matter. When she was alive, she was under the protection of Tim and Curly and few people said things about her, but now that she was dead, it was another story. I felt sorry for Angela.

The Shepards went hunting for the witness but they couldn't find him. The police said they were doing all they could to find out who did this but we all knew they wouldn't be much help.

I was worried about Tim and Curly. More Curly than Tim. They both had violent, vengeance streaks but I reckoned Tim had more self control than Curly. They'd both been jailed before and I don't think it mattered much to them whether they ended up in the cooler again or not. Curly had a red button inside of him like I did. He'd been the youngest but he'd always been protective of his sister. He'd experienced death before but never this close. He was wild and more than a little crazy. I'd seen him in rumbles and he got off on hurting other people. I worried he was going to get himself killed.

* * *

I ended up in bed again.

Darry took me to see Kaplan. I just said the pills weren't working and he prescribed me a different kind. I threw out the prescription.

Nothing was going to help me.

Doctors, pills, even my brothers wouldn't help.

The world had become darker, unlivable almost. We were never far from tragedy. Crude brutality was always around the corner.

I found myself just bursting into tears at random. I was alone when it happened. I wasn't about to let my brothers know. I would curl up on the ground, my face pressed against the carpet, wrap my arms around me and sob. Or I would be walking to the vacant lot with tears streaming down my face.

I stopped showering and couldn't be bothered brushing my teeth. I abandoned writing. I wasn't interested in talking to anybody.

I had to face facts.

Things were rough, I was incurably depressed, and I wasn't sure if I could take it anymore.

* * *

One day, I found myself walking to the drugstore.

I felt robotic.

Nothing mattered except what I was about to do.

I bought two bottles of Aspirin. I got a bottle whisky. I swallowed the pills, one after one, chasing them down with the whisky. It tasted awful. I felt my body start swaying and my vision grew fuzzy.

I lay down in my bed and waited for the darkness to come and claim me.


	8. Chapter 8

I stared dully at the doctor. His name was Doctor Gates. I was lying on the cot, with a hospital curtain around us, the room silent. He had a notepad and hadn't started speaking yet. I wanted him to go away and leave me alone.

"Why did you do it, Ponyboy?" he said, finally. I closed my eyes and turned my head. I didn't want to respond to him. He waited patiently for me to answer and when I didn't, he asked another question.

Then another.

And another.

"The longer it takes for you to talk, the longer you'll stay here, Ponyboy," he said eventually. I remained silent.

I was in the mental health section of the hospital.

I had woken up at the hospital, dazed and confused, not knowing what happened. What I had done to myself.

They'd given me charcoal to drink in the Emergency Room and I had thrown up viciously for 8 straight hours. Soda and Darry had been with me in ER. They watched as I threw up everything in my stomach. Soda's eyes had been red rimmed. Darry looked sick.

"Why Pony?" they had asked but like to the doctor, I refused to say anything.

I was too sick mentally and physically to have any sort of conversation about what motivated me to try to take my own life.

They spent the whole time sitting there, staring at me as I vomited violently in regular intervals.

When I was deemed physically okay, I had been transported to One West, their mental ward.

This was rock bottom.

Ponyboy Curtis had almost done himself in.

Doctor Gates finally gave up.

"I'll see you soon Ponyboy. Hopefully by then you can tell me what happened," he said. He didn't sound impatient or angry. He was probably used to this and more. I watched him walk out of my curtained area and turned to stare at the ceiling.

I felt numb.

I hadn't even been suicidal when I decided to swallow those pills. If that sounds weird, I know.

I had no control over anything except my own life.

That may have been an unconscious reason why I wanted to take it.

Maybe I wanted to know that there were better things on the other side. Maybe I had wanted the comfort of my parents who would help erase the pain and misery if they'd been around.

I couldn't tell you why exactly I did it. I just did and now here I was, in a mental institution, a fifteen year old who'd lost his way. If I had a way in the first place.

I couldn't even cry anymore. I was so drained.

If there was ever a way to be alive and be a zombie, this was it.

Lifeless. Cold. Dead.

* * *

That night I had to take pills. The nurse got me up and I went to a window where they gave me a small, paper cup.

"Take your pill in front of us," said the nurse automatically, like it was rote or something. I swallowed and handed the cup back to them.

I trudged my way back to my room and sank down on my cot.

I had a roommate, a crazy looking guy with unkempt hair. He hummed to himself a lot. He sounded nuts. I wasn't nuts. I shouldn't be here. I was just sick of how things were. I wasn't crazy like the others here. I was being arrogant but I didn't care. I wanted to go home and go to sleep in my own bed with Soda lying next to me. But I would have to face people. Never mind. Maybe being here wouldn't be so bad. I was alone. I didn't have to talk. I was content.

Soda and Darry came to see me. It was family only. They sat in the plastic chairs in my cordoned off area and looked tired and sad.

"Well, we don't know when you'll be able to leave, Ponyboy," Darry said. He looked tough and muscular, but his eyes weren't as cold as they usually were. There was a hint of softness and resignation in them. I wasn't surprised that they didn't know when I could go home. Not saying anything to the doctor wasn't going to help matters.

They went on talking about other things. Regular things like work and how the gang was doing. They were extra careful with what they said around me. The gang knew I was in the hospital but they didn't know the real reason. My brothers had told them I had taken a fall but I would be back soon.

It wasn't any of their business.

"Johnny says he hopes you get better and can't wait 'til you get home," Soda said. His hair hung straight against his face, a curtain of golden brown, all the way down. His eyes were sympathetic. I didn't say anything.

Pretty soon, they were just talking to each other, and looking at me, as if to include me in even though I was just dead to the conversation. I was a zombie.

* * *

Darry and Soda had brought me new notebooks and pens so I could write but I wasn't doing any of that. I spent the day pacing the hallway, or lying in my bed, not talking to anybody. Fortunately I got to wear my own clothes. I'd seen the hospital patient's uniform and I would look like a fool in them.

The food there was enough to turn my stomach. Breakfast was at 8:30, lunch at 12:30, and dinner at 4:30. Always punctual. It was all systematic. There was a TV room and a library, both of which were always occupied by other patients who couldn't shut up.

I had taken a JD Salinger book from the library and brought it to my room to read. I'd never read the Catcher in the Rye before and it was pretty good.

Soda or Darry came to see me every day, sometimes they came together. But rarely. They had to work.

I didn't want to think about how much this hospital stay was costing them.

Doctor Gates came to see me once a day. The results were the same. I had nothing to say.

I woke up, did nothing but eat and read, took my pill, went to bed, and the day would start all over again.

When it had been a week, Doctor Gates came in with his notepad and said the same thing.

"Ready to talk?" I must have surprised him by answering, "Yeah," because his eyebrows shot up.

"That's good to hear Ponyboy. Is this your first time in this ward?"

"Yes sir."

"Can you tell me why you did what you did?"

"I dunno, if I can tell you exactly. I'm just sick of things." Gates scrawled something down, and looked back up at me.

"What things?"

"Being a grease and having all kinds of shit happen to me. Or to us." I started talking and couldn't stop. It just came pouring out. I told him about last year which took some time. He nodded periodically and took notes. I told him about Buck Merril's party and the guilt that accompanied it. He didn't bat an eyelash. I told him about Angela Shepard.

"It ain't fair that we have all the rough breaks. I hate having all this stuff happen and reacting to it the way I do and not being able to change anythin'. I feel so helpless. And hopeless," I said. I started weeping.

I could feel everything I had been suppressing rise up again.

"What happens if something happens to my brothers? I can't bear it if something else happens." I wiped my eyes furiously. Gates leaned over and gave me the tissue box.

"I mean I know it was selfish of me to do this but there's only so much I can take, you know?" Gates was direct and firm and wasn't going to take any bullshit.

"What about what your brothers can take? What if they lost you this time?" he asked not in an unkind way. I sniffled and started crying. I was such a little bastard.

"There isn't much you can do about how the world exists Ponyboy. The only thing you have control over is yourself. You can do your best to help those around you but sometimes you aren't going to be successful. You need to build a proper defense system against the hurts of society. I don't need to tell you that taking your life isn't the answer. It only adds to the cycle of pain," he said gently. I blew my nose and nodded.

"I want that control though, doctor. I need it. I'm just lost in everythin'," I said brokenly.

"It doesn't seem like you're lost. It seems like you know exactly where you are and how things are. It doesn't seem like you give yourself enough credit. You seem to be a very astute, caring, sensitive, and intelligent individual. You may have difficulty tackling some of the issues at hand but it's part of the growth process. You encounter bumps along the way but it's all a process."

"How do I stop the pain?"

"That's an impossibility. But you can learn to deal effectively with it. Talking about it helps. I see you have notebooks so writing would be another device to use. Everybody has their own unique way of handling the obstacles life throws at you. You can come up with your own way, if you want to, and you'll be able to get through everything you encounter."

"Really?"

"Really. And I'll help you. That's what I'm here for." I stopped crying and smiled at him, through my tears.

"Here's another suggestion. Start telling the truth from now on."

"Thanks Doctor Gates." I wasn't so sure he could help me. Nothing had seemed successful this far. But he seemed determined. And I was just a fifteen year old boy. He was an expert.

What did I know, really?

* * *

Soda came by with some Pepsi. I was dying for a cigarette and was whining about it to him. He looked relieved.

"You're talking! Finally," he said. I took a swig of Pepsi.

"The doc helped get me started," I said. I had something to tell him.

"Remember you told me stay away from Buck Merril?" He looked at me with no expression on his face.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I didn't. I went to that party of his when Dally won the race. I got drunk, made out with a gazillion girls, and lost my virginity. To three different people." Sodapop leaned back and stared at me. First his eyes were wide, then they blazed with anger. Then they softened. Then he looked out the window. He was no innocent either. I felt my back stiffen, waiting for him to say something.

He sighed.

"I love you Ponyboy. But some of the decisions you make scare the daylights out of me. What if something happened to you there? There's a reason why Darry and I tell you not to do something and that's so you don't get hurt. You're like a firecracker Ponyboy and we're never sure what's going to come out of you. I never see anythin' comin'. Maybe this is all my fault," he said, his face sad.

"This is not your fault Sodapop. Don't ever say that again," I said fiercely.

"I'd never raised a kid before, Ponyboy. Sometimes it feels like I don't know what I'm doin'."

"You ain't raisin' me," I said, indignant.

"Yeah, I am. You don't know what it's like to be an older brother Pony. But one day when you're a father, you'll understand what it's like to worry and to be helpless about seeing your kid in pain, and not know what to do about it," he said softly.

I kicked myself. I WAS a selfish brat.

"I hope to God this is the last time something like this happens Ponyboy," he said, suddenly rubbing his temples.

"I wouldn't be able to stand it if I lost you. I'd go nuts. Promise me, you'll be careful and you'll tell me what's goin' on. I'm not God so I can't fix everything. But as long we're on each other's side, we'll get through it. Promise me that you'll never try to die again," he said. He looked like he was going to start crying.

I was already in tears.

"I promise Soda." He got up, ready to leave.

"Er…Soda?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell Darry about Buck."


	9. Chapter 9

I found that I could relate a lot to Holden Caulfield. We were both depressed, full of angst, and pissed off at the world. I related to him real well. I finished that book in about three days.

"He really speaks to me, doctor," I was saying to Gates.

"He is a very popular character," Gates responded.

"We're kinda goin' through the same thing, you know? He has this realness that makes me like him. There's no bullshit. He tells it like it is," I said.

"Do you find that you're similar in some ways?"

"In some ways yes. But in other ways, no. He's got more intensity to him, I suppose."

"Do you find reading helpful to you?"

"God yes. It's an escape. I know runnin' away isn't always a good thing but when I need to, books supply that escape in spades. I get into the characters and live through them. It's the same with movies."

"I be you're a good writer."

"I'm alright."

"You should do some more of it."

"I probably will."

I did do some writing. I know I was in a mental institution but I felt at peace here. Nobody was around to bother me, I was surrounded by care takers, I could write when I wanted. It was serene. I only wished I had Pepsi and cigarettes otherwise things were pretty alright. I missed seeing the gang but I knew time spent away from people was good for me.

Darry was trying to be understanding at least. Things had always been awkward between us and emotional scenes definitely weren't going to happen. But he was being nice and regular, which is what I needed. At least that's what I thought.

"You're looking real good Ponyboy," he said on one visit.

"Thanks Darry, I feel better."

"I…I wanted to tell you that I love you, Ponyboy," he said, his voice quiet. He looked like he was fighting with his emotions. My eyes widened. This was unexpected.

"I know I don't say that enough but it's true. I was afraid we'd lost you, the same way we lost mom and dad. When I found you, my heart stopped beating."

"You found me?"

"Yeah. I couldn't wake you and when I checked you pulse, it was weak. It scared me to death. I just wanted to tell you that if anything happened to you I'd--," he said but I interrupted him. I felt strange, like this was happening on screen with me watching it.

"I know, Darry. I'm sorry," I said. I had a lump in my throat. His eyes weren't cold now.

"It's hard when you're workin' all the time to see what's going on in your own home. I do the best I can but sometimes it ain't enough. I'm the one who's sorry Ponyboy. I should've seen this comin'," he said, guilt all over his face.

I hated myself then.

My brothers were blaming themselves for my stupidity and selfishness.

"Please stop Darry. It ain't your fault. I just had a lot goin' on. It's been a rough couple of years and I just had some trouble handlin' it. But I'm okay now. I'm takin' these pills and they seem to be working. I'm seeing the doctor every day…," something in Darry's face made me stop.

"What if something happens that causes you to go over the edge again Ponyboy?" I was silent.

"Nothing will. I…I love you, too Darry. I love both you and Soda too much to ever do anything like this again," I said, feeling my eyes fill up. He reached over to ruffle my hair but I grabbed him and gave him a fierce hug.

I wasn't going to hurt them ever again.

* * *

I left the hospital when I was there for two weeks. That's the standard time to leave for inpatients before they're reassessed. By Gates' standards, I was fine to go home.

Darry came for me and we got my things together.

"You got everything, Ponyboy?" he asked. I looked around. I was going to miss this place but I never wanted to come back ever again. I had an appointment to see Gates in a month. He had given me a mood journal as a parting gift.

We went into the Ford and drove home. The boys were all there and they whooped and hollered when we walked in the front door.

"As you can see, nothin's changed," Darry said. Steve was messing my hair up and Two-Bit had me in a hug.

"We missed you, Ponyboy," he said swinging me around. I wished he would stop, it was making me head spin. He finally did and I stumbled over Johnny who was sitting on the ground.

"Sorry Johnny."

"Glad to have you back Ponyboy," he said looking up at me through his hair.

"It's good to be back." It sure was. I was happy to see all of them. The only person who was missing was Dally.

* * *

Dally was with Shepard, they told me.

Last week, Curly Shepard had gotten a hold of a group of Socs with a busted bottle and slashed one of them across the face. He was in the Reformatory. I felt bad for him. I had known he would lose it because to be honest, who wouldn't?

Darry looked at me, worriedly. He knew what this news would do to my mood. I gave him a look as if to say, 'Don't worry, I'm fine.' He relaxed slightly. I didn't exactly want to know anything else about the situation. I know it was selfish but once you've spent two weeks in a mental institution, you're kinda picky about what you want to hear.

"I heard Soda went to see Buck," scatterbrained Two-Bit said. I looked at him, startled. I was instantly worried.

"Why?"

"Dunno. Why are you looking like that, Ponyboy?"

"He went to pick something up is what happened," Steve said, glaring at Two-Bit, then at me. My gut was saying something different. Darry just sighed. We were all watching TV and hanging out when Soda came back. He went into the bedroom and followed him.

"You went to see Buck, Soda?"

He sighed.

"Yeah, I did. I needed to pick something up."

"Did you…say anything to him?" Sodapop was never one to lie.

"Yeah. I told him, 'Ever get my brother sloshed again, I'll kill you'," Soda said.

"Christ Soda. What if he hit you or something. And it _had_ been my fault."

"You're a fifteen year old kid. He's a twenty six year old adult. He should know better than to let you into his house that's filled with God knows what during a wild, swing party. Even if you were the one to walk in there," he said.

"Did he hit you?"

"No, of course not. He wouldn't hit me." Buck was taller than Soda but I knew Soda would flatten him in a second. Once Soda gets angry, there's no stopping him in a fight.

"Good."

"Stop looking so worried. You just got back from the hospital. I don't want send you back there."

* * *

Soda and Darry tread carefully around me for the next couple of days. They were putting up such a farce of normalcy it was driving me crazy. I told them this over dinner.

"I'm not exactly a flower, guys. I won't fall over if something little happens. You don't have to walk on eggshells."

"We ain't."

"Yeah, you ARE. Cut it out alright? I'm takin' my pills. I'm okay."

* * *

I could feel the depression there, in my system, but it was suspended beneath a layer of antidepressants. I could feel that part of me blocked from making contact with the rest of my mind. My emotions were more streamlined, not all over the place and I wasn't bursting into tears at random anymore. I didn't feel _alive_ but I wasn't depressed as hell anymore. I was like a robot. I didn't like it but there was nothing I could do. I could be a human again, a robotic human, or I could send myself back into the depths of hell where everything was black both shattered and void. It was a sacrifice I was just going to have to make.

Especially for my brothers.

We agreed to keep this between us brothers but I wanted to tell Johnny. He was my best buddy and deserved to know. We got together in the vacant lot and sat beneath the tree and I told him what happened. He was a good listener, not interrupting once. Once I finished, he look pained.

"Geez Ponyboy," was all he could say. I felt a little bit selfish telling him at that point. I knew what it would do to me if I found out that Johnny had tried to take his own life. He was as important to me as my family was. He did something he'd never done before. He leaned over and gave me a huge hug. I hugged him back. We were best friends.

"You ain't alone in this Ponyboy. I'm telling you that you're not alone. Anytime you need to talk--."

"I'll come to you Johnnycake."

I was ready to face whatever was going to happen next.

I was fifteen and not ready to die.

There was too much to do and too much to see and there were my loved ones willing to take this exploration with me. I couldn't let them down.

Being in a hospital makes you realize a lot of things about yourself. And in my case, it made me realize a lot about my brothers. They had been forced to open up and look at themselves with this incident. And they were sharing parts of themselves with me they'd never shared before.

Perhaps more came out of this situation than I ever possibly thought there could.


	10. Chapter 10

Tim came over to the house with Dally.

"We found out who killed Angela. Some of them Socs were braggin', but they weren't careful who they were talking to and it got back to us," Dally said. Tim didn't say anything but his eyes were deadly.

"We're gonna need to talk to Soda and Darry. When are they comin' back?" Dally asked.

"Around 6 or so," I said, feeling worried. What could they possibly need my brothers for? I didn't want them getting involved in a vendetta against the Socs.

"Y'all goin' to the police?" Johnny asked. Tim laughed bitterly.

"For what? So they could let them off the hook? No, we ain't going to the cops. We're going to do this our way. It's the only way to get payback for Angela," he said.

"So what do you need Darry and Soda for?" I asked.

"You'll see," was all he said. They left and said they'd come back.

I was scared. Tim was surely off his rocker and I didn't want my brothers near him when he was like that. Dally…Dally knew better than to involve them. At least I hoped he did.

"Darry and Soda wouldn't do anything stupid, Pony," Johnny said, trying to be reassuring. That was true. I was far more likely to do something stupid than either of them. And I wasn't stupid enough to get caught up in Tim's plans.

They did come home around six and Tim and Dally showed up then too. We all sat together in the living room.

"What can we do for you, Tim?" Darry asked.

"I'm going to ask y'all for a favour. I need to track down folks by the name of Bob Sheldon and Randy Adderson. They had something to do with Angela's murder and I need to _speak_," he seethed the word, "to them." Sodapop asked them how they knew it was those two and they repeated what they told me and Johnny earlier.

"I don't know how we can help you, Tim," Darry said. He kept a cool head and I was thankful for that.

"I need help for when I find them, specifically," Tim corrected himself. Blood drained from my face. Another rumble? Again?

"If you're planning on fighting, Tim, I'm not sure if it'll do any help. Maybe it's better if you go to the cops," Sodapop said. That's something that we did last year and it had worked in our favour, going to the police I mean.

"Paul O'Neill's in jail because of what he did to me. Let the police handle this, Tim," I was pleading with him. No more violence. Dally put a hand on Tim's shoulder.

"I've helped y'all out in rumbles before," Tim said in a hard voice. We all knew Tim wasn't talking about a rumble. He was talking about a vindication murder.

"We know and we appreciate it. But we can't get involved in killing somebody, Tim. It ain't right," Darry said.

"It ain't right what happened to Angela, either," Tim said. He looked at Dally.

"Let's get out of here. It looks like we'll find no help in these quarters," he said glaring at us. He slammed out of the house. Dally remained where he was standing before.

"You be careful Dallas. I don't want you getting involved in this murder scheme," Darry said to him. Dally looked coolly at him.

"I can handle myself."

* * *

"Are you alright Ponyboy?" Darry asked during dinner. Dally had left and it was just the four of us. I was confused.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't want you getting upset over this situation with Shepard. It's his deal, not ours. It's one thing to help out in a rumble, another to aid in murdering somebody. The fact he told us about it makes us an accessory to a crime that's yet to be committed. We should be telling the police about this."

"Why don't we make an anonymous call?" Sodapop suggested.

"About the Socs, not about Tim I mean," he added.

"Why don't we just keep our mouths shut. It's Tim's deal, right?" I said.

"It's a murder rap, Pony," Darry said as if I was slow or something. I glared at him.

"I know that. But once Shepard gets going on something, he doesn't stop. This is his sister we're talking about. Maybe it should be an eye for an eye."

"That ain't gonna help matters Ponyboy. Angela's dead and she ain't coming back. It'll just be a vicious cycle. You should know. Look what happened last year," Johnny said. We all shut up. Johnny didn't usually talk much but when he did, we listened.

"We gotta do something."

"Like tie Shepard to a chair?"

And idea was dawning on me.

"I should talk to Shepard."

"Stay out of it, Ponyboy," Darry ordered. Sodapop nodded. He hadn't quite forgiven Tim for the scrapes I had gotten into last year with the rumble and all.

"But maybe I can get through to him." I remember how he had cried in my arms.

"How? He's a whole different ball game for you Pony. He ain't like us. He's a hood with a capital H and a raging one at that. He's hard and cold like Dally and he comes with a whole different set of rules, rules you don't understand," Darry said harshly.

"You just came home to us and you're still recovering Pony, do you understand?" he said more softly. I nodded. I was really tired all of the sudden.

"I'm going to head to bed, y'all," I said.

"Goodnight Pony."

* * *

I woke up the next morning and Soda was sitting on the bed, watching me.

"What?" He stroked my hair.

"Nothin'."

"Did something happen?"

"No."

"Oh." He was quiet. I watched him.

"Just promise me you won't do anything reckless, Ponyboy." He knew me too well.

"I feel as I oughtta do something, Soda," I said.

"You can't go around saving everybody, Pony. That's how you end up dead. And I don't just mean dead dead, but dead inside."

I had saviour complex is what I had. I wanted to go around saving people. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to talk Tim Shepard out of murder. I'd seen a side of him that was vulnerable and that someone could possibly get through to. I wasn't arrogant enough to think I'd be able to do it, but I was crazy enough to want to try. Even if I couldn't help, maybe somebody else would. He had done me a huge favour last year, letting me hang out with his crew, and I felt I owed him.

I owed it to Tim Shepard to try to help him not destroy his life.

* * *

Tim answered the door on the first knock. He gave me a long, measured look.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in? I just want to talk."

"It looked like you folks said everything you needed to say the last time we spoke."

"I ain't my brothers." He looked curious. He opened the door and I went in. He gestured to the couch and I sat down. He sank into the armchair, lit a cigarette, and waited.

"I think you oughtta go to the cops, Tim," I said hurriedly. He looked impatient.

"I told you that ain't gonna happen. What the hell am I doing talking to a fourteen year old kid, anyway about this?" he asked himself.

"I'm fifteen. And I'm trying to help you out, Tim. You don't want to spend the rest of your life in prison, do you? I don't think Angela would have wanted that for you," I said.

"What do you know about Angela?"

"I know that she was given an unfair card in her lifetime and that she probably wouldn't have wanted you to go jail, or get the death penalty for her," I said, making broad but probably realistic assumptions.

"What kind of world are you livin' in, kid? This ain't the movies. This is real life. You come walking into my living room with these ideals about how things oughtta be but it ain't like that. Real life is hard, it's cold, and it's death. Somebody murders one of your own, you get them back. The police only help the good guys on TV. They don't stick their neck out for Greasers. You should know that by now," he snarled.

I expected him to be this way but it still hurt. I realized how much I had come to care about him and I didn't want to see him in prison or dead.

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"It doesn't have to but it is that way, kid."

I had failed miserably.

I walked home, feeling numb. If anything, God forbid, happened to Darry or Soda, I wondered if I would turn murderous too? Darry and Soda would have gone to the police if anything happened to me.

I had a different sort of energy inside of me.

A darker one.

I knew I would end up behind bars for being a killer if anything happened to somebody I loved.


	11. Chapter 11

We learned about Bob Sheldon's death through Dally first.

The newspapers came second and there on the front page was a picture of a smiling Soc, handsome with dark hair and eyes, and a long article accompanying it.

Dally told us the news, his face hard and unsurprised.

I could feel my hair standing on end as Dally told us about how he died. Bob had just left his house when he was approached by Shepard, who was carrying a blade. Shepard proceeded to beat Bob with his fists. He beat him until he was barely conscious. To a bloody pulp. His parents had raced out of the house at that point and apparently, Shepard took his blade and slit Bob's throat in their presence. Shepard had sat with the body until the fuzz showed and handcuffed him.

The newspaper article talked about what a good student Bob was, and how he was such a great kid. They demonized Shepard. I'd never read such harsh things written about somebody before and wondered, in a detached way, where the objectivity was in this article. Of course there was none.

"Shepard's gonna get life in prison or death," Dally said, smoking and looking out the window. I was angry.

"We gotta do something. It ain't his fault completely. Angela--," I started heatedly but Dally interrupted.

"Angela nothin'. They get all the breaks, we don't. Sheldon's father's a big deal. His mother went into shock. Tim's gonna get the worst possible sentence they could think of," he said. I stared at the floor, feeling stunned. I couldn't believe that Tim had committed murder. I mean, the idea wasn't so far fetched, but I still couldn't believe it.

Darry was sighing and Sodapop looked sad.

"You are all going to keep your mouth shut. Stay out of this," Darry ordered. Nobody was going to say anything. I wondered, stupidly, if any of Tim's pain had been alleviated or if the worst was yet to come. The fragile entity that had been the Shepards had fallen apart completely and nobody would be there to pick up the pieces.

* * *

Bob Sheldon had been a real popular guy. It was all out warfare in the city. Soc against Greaser. I hated it. They'd raped and murdered Angela Shepard and had gotten away with it and Greasers hadn't staged a payback of any magnitude because they understood that terrible things happened and there wasn't a fucking thing you could do about it. The Socials, on the other hand, though they were above the law and were out to get every Greaser they could lay their hands on in the name of Bob. I wasn't allowed out alone and the gang walked in pairs.

It was starting all over again.

* * *

"We ought to move," Darry said. We looked at him like he was nuts.

"It's too dangerous in this neighbourhood and with Soda and I workin'…"

"We still wouldn't be able to afford it," Soda said.

"We'd just end up in another shitty area, Darry. It's dangerous all over the East side," I put in.

"Maybe we should get out of East side. Start over somewhere. We can sell the house and use the money and get something somewhat decent," Darry said. Soda and I knew it was just a pipe dream. There was no way we'd be moving anywhere. Darry shrugged then shook his head. He looked stressed.

"It's the same thing as last year. Greasers getting' jumped left and right, rumbles takin' place all over the city, it's déjà vu," he said.

"We'll get through it Darry, look at everything we had to deal with and we all have our limbs intact," I said. Sodapop murmured in agreement.

"You both have to promise that you're going to be careful. I mean it." We promised.

* * *

"I started carrying a heater," Dally said.

"Christ Dally," Steve said. We were all out in the vacant lot, having a smoke.

"Relax, it ain't loaded."

"It don't matter, man."

I'd never seen the results of an altercation involving a heater and I didn't intend to. Especially if it was going to be Dally. But what could I possibly say? He wouldn't listen to me.

I really wondered how Dally was. Tim had been one of his best friends and now he was in an orange jumpsuit for the rest of his life. Or he was going to be sentenced to the electric chair. If the situation had been me or Johnny, I would have broken down and bawled and probably wouldn't be able to stop. Dally wasn't the break down and bawl type. Well, neither had been Tim but he did, in front of the whole gang, too. Dally always had his guard up, no matter what. I suspected that things weren't going to change regarding that either.

Johnny was tense and he looked even more worried than usual.

"What if they do think it's loaded Dally? What if the fuzz catches you with it?"

"Y'all worry too much. It helps to bluff sometimes. I know what I'm doin'," he said, impatiently. Johnny shoved his fists into his pockets and didn't say anything. I just sat there watching everybody. Soda and Steve began wrestling with each other, Two-Bit was admiring his long, black handled blade, Dally was staring across the field with an intense look on his face, and Johnny was nervous and huddled. I felt a surge of affection for every person there. We all had history together and we didn't always get along, but we were buddies and we were loyal to each other. We were like family. I was the youngest one but I knew I would do whatever I could to protect them. Even when Steve got annoyed with me for being a tagalong, or when Two-Bit's wisecracks misfired and ended up offending me, or when Dally got mean, I would do what I could for them to keep them safe. The times were dangerous and the world was unfair and that could lead to disastrous consequences.

"Tim's getting what he deserved. He committed a crime and now he has to own up to it. He did what he set out to do and now he's getting the results," Dally said softly. I looked at him with boggled eyes. He wasn't on Tim's side?

"Don't look at him like that Ponyboy. He's sayin' that while Angela was killed, Tim could have just beaten Sheldon. He didn't have to kill him. But that's Tim fer ya. An eye for an eye," Two-Bit said.

"And if it had been your sister?" I asked. Maybe I was agreeing with Tim Shepard's actions. I don't know. Two-Bit glared at me. He didn't say anything. For the first time in my life, I had shut Two-Bit Matthews up.

"I wasn't sayin' that Matthews," Dally said shortly.

"What are you sayin' then?" Steve asked. He and Soda had finished wrestling and were now re-joining the conversation.

"Just saying you gotta be smart. If you're smart, you don't get yourself in a jam."

"What if that jam involved someone you know?" Or love?

"That's why you don't get too close. You do that and you're in trouble," he said with finality. He revealed a lot of himself with that statement. We sat in silence, digesting what he said. None of us were like Dally Winston. He could live without connections. The rest of us couldn't. But that's why he was harder and colder than us. There wasn't anybody out there that Dallas Winston would give his life for.

I went to bed early that night. I had a lot of thinking to do. But I was disturbed by the sound of the door opening and slamming shut. I leapt out of my bed and ran out in the hall. Johnny was in the family room, gasping for air.

"Socs," he managed to get out. They had chased him for three blocks in their car until he hopped a fence and was out of there as fast as he could be.

"Are you alright Johnny?" I asked anxiously. He nodded. Soda gave him chocolate milk to drink and told him to spend the night.

"I'm getting so sick of this," he said.

"You weren't supposed to walk by yourself Johnny," I admonished him. He gave me a look.

"I know, but I didn't think they'd come by our neighbourhood again." But they did.

And the cycle was vicious but it was a cycle.

A rumble would stop it for a while. But there was no way to stop it for good.

I took my pill and went back to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

I felt worried about Tim Shepard. I knew what the deal was. Cold-blooded murder, according to the prosecutors. It was premeditated and he murdered in front of witnesses, so it was life in prison or death by electric chair.

I read the newspapers feverishly, keeping up with the case as it progressed through the biased lens of the newspapers. I didn't want that kind of life for Shepard. But deep down inside, I always knew it was the kind of end that he'd get in life, the way many hoods would meet their ends, cold, violent, bending the law.

I just wished that things were different for him.

It was different with Curly, he'd get out and continue being a hood. But for Tim, they'd cut off his hair, because we didn't have anything to lose really but our hair, and put him in that jumpsuit and he'd spend the rest of his life in a cage. Or the other alternative. Maybe it wasn't just about Tim, maybe it was also part of being a Greaser. If only the police had put more effort into finding Angela's killer, maybe this wouldn't have happened. If only Tim went to the police instead of putting justice into his own hands and being a vigilante.

If only…

Dally, of course, was hauled in for questioning. He didn't give any details when he came back to us and I looked for any cracks in his armour but there weren't any. Hard and cold as per usual. The other members of the gang had moved on, Tim hadn't been a close buddy, but I wasn't able to let this go even if I hadn't been a part of his crew.

Darry was starting to get worried but I lied to him that everything was fine.

"Maybe you ought to go take a trip to the country again, Pony. That did you good when you went with Johnny, take your mind off things," he suggested. I just shook my head again.

"I'm fine here Darry. I'll go another time," I said. Darry just continued to look at me with a crease in his forehead. Normally I would have given anything to get out to the country with Johnny or somebody, but I wasn't up for it this time around. I was here and restless. I was still on my pills and I hoped that I would be able to get off of them soon. I wasn't itchin' to attempt suicide again. Those pills had tasted nasty.

School was starting in two weeks. I didn't want to think about it. I had quite a few friends at school but I wasn't interested in seeing or talking to anybody. I had too much on my mind. This summer had been eventful and I was paranoid that people would know I'd been in the mental hospital just by talking to me. I was robotic due to my antidepressants and couldn't see myself doing anything but staying indoors and forgetting the world existed outside of Tim Shepard's case.

The world was too fucked up for me to get into it and live it.

* * *

Johnny and I went to the Dingo with Dally. We sat there with our Pepsis when about five Socy cars pulled up into the parking lot. Johnny gasped. Dally had a cold smile on his face. They were way out of Soc territory. There were maybe 5 Greasers in the parking lot and the Dingo was about half full. The place went eerily silent when they saw who the visitors were outside. Half the Socs came into the diner while the other half lingered outside. I could smell a wave of English Leather. Dally stood up first.

"You're outta your territory," he said, leaning against the booth and lighting up. He looked cool. One of the Socs turned to glare at him.

"Are we?" he said sarcastically. Jay, the owner of the Dingo came out.

"Look, I don't want any trouble here. If you want to order, you can. If not, then leave," Jay said.

"We aren't looking for trouble, we're just here to eat," the Soc said. They began to climb into booths and since there weren't enough, the rest stood and looked around coolly. Everybody was watching them.

"What can I get for you boys?" Jay asked. He stood with a pad and a pen, looking apprehensive. They pretended to look over the menu, and started making noise over how low brow the place was.

"If you don't like what I got here, you can always leave. The door's right there," Jay said. They took a while to stand but once they were up, they left the diner. We watched as they met up with the other Socs and they lingered around the parking lot. Jay knew better than to go out and ask them to leave. Dally raised an eyebrow at us.

"Ready to leave?" he asked. He looked weary as hell. We were ready. Once outside, the Socs started giving us a hard time. We were the only ones out there, three against twenty. Dally casually reached inside his coat and brought out his heater, and let it dangle from his hand. They reacted instantly.

"Are you plannin' on giving us trouble?" Dally asked, looking bored. Johnny and I stood behind him, eyes bugged out of our heads because he had the balls to take that thing out. The leader, I supposed, raised his hands and walked backwards.

"Nope, Grease. We were just leaving," he said. Dally wasn't ready to let this go yet.

"What did you call me?"

"Grease," the Soc said, looking down at the gun then up at Dally. I was sure he was going to call his bluff but I wasn't going to bet on it.

"That ain't nice to say to somebody about to blow your head in," Dally snarled. The Soc turned red. He still had his hands up. The other Socs stood behind him, their looks ranging from mean to scared to terrified.

"Come on, Randy, let's go," said one. Randy? Like Randy Adderson? I saw the name register with Dallas too.

"Randy, is it? Know anything about a dead friend of mine? Her name was Angela Shepard," Dallas said in a hard voice. Randy's eyes gave Dally the answer he was looking for. Dally stepped forward and pointed the gun at Randy's head.

"Git down on your knees," Dally said. Randy kneeled. He looked like he was about to wet himself. Dally leaned in real close, gesturing for Johnny and I to come closer. I was sweating like mad but I listened and came forward.

"You think you got away with it, but you didn't and you won't. You and your buddies are going to get into your cars and drive away. You will go to the West side and stay there. You will not come anywhere near our territory again and if I hear of any Grease getting jumped again, I will hold you personally responsible and come after you. I won't be as nice next time around," Dally said softly so only Randy could hear. Dally raised the gun and waved it around and the others stepped back. Dally reeled back and punched Randy as hard as he could in the face. Randy collapsed on the ground, moaning. Dally kicked him in the stomach. He reached down and lifted Randy's head off the ground by the hair. He looked at the other Socs.

"Y'all better stay the fuck out of the East, folks. I ain't the only one with one of these things and you will not live to see another day if you decide to come cruisin' around again," Dallas said in a hard voice. He dropped Randy and motioned for Johnny and I to follow him out of the parking lot. I was in awe because of what I had witnessed Dallas Winston do. He knew the score alright. We walked away feeling tough and tuff, hearing the sound of cars squealing out of the parking lot.

"That was tough, Dally. Real tough," Johnny said admiringly. He ruffled Johnny's hair.

"That's how it's done, kiddo," he said. With his actions, I seriously thought that we'd get some peace on the East side for once. No walking and have 'Greaser!' shouted at us, or worries about getting jumped, or being followed, or other stuff. I had a question for Dally.

"Why did you let him split? You know what he did to Angela," I said. Dallas gave me a look and was quiet for a second.

"You think pulling a heater on him and then beating him in front of his gang of Madras wearing shitheads isn't enough?"

At that, I shut up.


	13. Chapter 13

Dally swore to us if we told anybody what happened at the Dingo, he'd beat our heads in. I don't think Johnny had planned on telling anybody and I certainly wasn't going to, so _that_ threat was futile. Dally's actions might have done something though. I think he might have scared Randy into a hole so that he'd never return from it. Dally didn't make empty promises. He would track down Randy and blow a hole in his head if something happened to us.

This got me thinking.

I never thought to ask Dally about his life goals. I mean, I'm not even sure if he had any. I wondered if he'd end up like Tim, somewhere in the criminal justice system. Or dead somewhere in a fight. He wasn't going to be like Darry, me, and Sodapop. We were going to do something with our lives. I'm not sure what but we were going to get out of this neighbourhood and make it. Then I began worrying about the other guys in the gang, especially Johnny.

Life doesn't stop as an adolescent, it continues going. We all live in the moment, especially as Greasers, because so much goes on here. It's easy to forget that in a few years, we'll be in our twenties and forced to do something with ourselves. Two-Bit, who's never held down a job, who's been in school for an unfathomable period of time and goes around like the kleptomaniac he is, what's future does he have? Steve, well Steve might have a chance. He's smart, aggressive, cocky, and Sodapop's best friend. He might scrounge around for enough to get through life and do something with himself. Johnny was the one I worried about the most. He was slow in school, came from a terrible home where the abuse was intolerable, and he was the puppy who'd been kicked too many times. Where was his breaking point? Unless his breaking point had already been beaten into resignation already.

This wasn't the life we chose but it was the life we had to work with in order to make us who we wanted to be.

At least I wanted to make myself who I wanted to be.

Some people were forced into being just who they were, flaws and all, without any chance of change for the better. I felt sorry for them.

I was in fear I could end up being one of them.

* * *

Things appeared to quiet down a little on the Greaser/Soc warfare front. Articles about Tim and Bob still appeared in the paper and it was still a big deal and I couldn't stop reading about it. The trial would take place next year and I was pretty sure he was going to get life. I felt bad for him but I knew he would be able to handle himself in jail. Life on the streets gave him enough armour that nobody was going to mess with him in prison. He had the look and he had the attitude to get by in that environment without any scrapes. I was pretty sure, without talking to him, that he felt his sister had been avenged.

Hoods might seem cold and hard and cruel most of the time, but they have emotional connections too. They have their breaking points and they can shed tears too.

Just not as often.

I was pretty sure Dally's gun toting incident had something to do with the quiet. You don't get threatened by a heater and not think about being dead meat. Randy and his cocky brand of Socs were going to listen and listen hard. They weren't going to report to the cops that they had been threatened by Dally with a heater. They weren't that stupid. Something kept niggling at me though. I despised the fact that Randy was getting away with murder. So, I decided that that needed to change.

* * *

I hung up the phone, with sweat pouring down my face. I had just spoken to the kindly police officer who sounded very interested in knowing how I knew about Randy's connection to Angela. I was worried he could trace my call but I calmed down. They couldn't do that.

I leaned my head against the phone booth and sighed. I was either very brave or very stupid. Probably the latter. I ran from the booth and ran all the way home.

* * *

I was jumpy. I was afraid the police would come banging on the door. I jumped out of my skin when one of the gang came into the house.

Had I made a mistake by going to the police? I mean, I had done the right thing, right?

The police were lazy as hell and seduced or intimidated by the power of the Socs so it would have to be up to a lowly Grease to do something about it.

* * *

I kept a lookout in the newspapers for any new news regarding Angela or Tim but the same old stories kept cropping up. Accolades for Sheldon, scathing editorials for Tim, and nothing about Angela Shepard. I was wondering if Randy had been questioned yet, and if they would question him. Knowing how things were, he'd probably get let off but at least I had tried.

Soda was right, I was racing around trying rescue people left and right that I had no concept of who I was anymore. Maybe I wasn't using my head but I wanted to do what I felt was the right thing. It never occurred to me then that it could impact Soda and Darry if things went badly until after I had to time to think about my actions. What was more important, my pursuit of justice or keeping my family together? I had my priorities all twisted up.

* * *

I looked at the remainder of my pills, loathing them. I felt less human using them than ever but they were there to keep me from falling apart. I had no choice. I popped one of them in my mouth and drank water to wash it down. They were an expense that we couldn't keep affording so I had to make sure I got better quick so I wouldn't have to rely on them anymore.

I wondered what else they were doing to my body.

Darry came into the room and saw me standing with the bottle of pills in my hand.

"What is it, Ponyboy?" he asked, looking slightly anxious.

"Nothin' Darry," I said. I put the pills away. He sighed and wiped his forehead with his hand.

"You have an appointment to see Doctor Gates next month, right?"

"Yeah."

"How are you doing now?" he asked. I wanted him to leave me alone but I didn't say so.

"Just fine Darry, just fine," I responded. He looked at me worriedly. I can tell he didn't believe me. He was always going to worry no matter what. But when I thought rationally about it, I'd given him plenty of reason to worry. From getting beaten up to getting knifed to attempting suicide, what reason would have not to worry. It was my fault and I was sorry.

"I'm fine Darry. You don't have to worry at all about me. How come you never worry about Soda as much?" I asked. He chuckled and Soda came in, hearing the last part of the question.

"He's one kid brother I don't have to worry about. He's got his life together, don't you little buddy?" Darry said, rubbing Soda's head affectionately.

"And I don't?"

"I didn't mean it like that, kid. You're still recovering from everything. It takes time."

"We know you'll get back on your feet in no time, Pony," Soda said. I was thinking I was already back on my feet. They couldn't have been more wrong. But maybe they were seeing something different? I didn't know. I was weighed down by too many things to think about it.

* * *

It was the holiday before school started. We were all outside in the vacant lot playing football. Darry, Johnny, and I were on one side while Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit were on the other. Dally contented himself by watching us and smoking. We were winning because Darry was the best player. I was running with the ball when I suddenly stopped short. Steve who was chasing after me crashed into me and we both went flying. I gasped, landing hard on my shoulder. I could hear Steve cursing me out. I had stopped because I'd just seen a red Corvette pull in.

It was Cherry Valance.

The others had stopped and were watching her approach. She had guts, Cherry did. It took a lot to for a Socy girl to walk into a lot filled with Greasers playing football. She looked a little uncomfortable when she came up, but beautiful.

"Hi," she said. I knew her the best so I went up to her while the others lounged around.

"Hi Cherry." I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what was coming. Trouble seemed to follow every piece of information we got from her.

"It's Randy," she said. There was a bad feeling in my stomach.

"What about Randy?" I said and suddenly Dally was standing next to me. He gave her a look.

"Yeah, what about Randy?"

"He was questioned by the police about the death of a girl on the East side. They came right to his front door and his parents were there. They let him go. He says he doesn't know anything about it but he wants to settle the score with you," she said, turning to Dallas.

"You embarrassed him in front of his friends and he says you're the one to blame for the cops showing up at his door. He escaped a lot of trouble," she continued. Dallas didn't say anything, just continued smoking and looking cool.

"There ain't anything to settle. It's his own stupidity that got him into trouble with the fuzz. He's a piece of dirt getting away with murder, is what it is," Dally said. I gulped. It was me who did it. But I wasn't going to admit it. I was too chicken. Cherry watched Dally carefully. Dally intimidated a lot of girls but Cherry wasn't one of them. He wasn't handsome but he had a hardened look to him, savage, defiant.

"What's he planning on doing to Dally?" Johnny asked, looking nervous to be talking at all. Cherry brushed back a strand of red hair.

"I don't know," she said. I was curious about her.

"Why do you keep ratting out your pals to us Cherry? I mean…thanks, I guess. But it's weird," I said honestly.

"I don't know," she said again. She kept her eyes on Dally who was staring across the field, an intent look on his face.

"I know what we're like. We come off as cool, sophisticated, but we fight hard and dirty. It's cheap. It's violent. And I loathe it. You're not always the instigators and I hate for you to get into trouble for our problems," she said.

"Let them come," Dally said.

"Tell them to fuck off," I said harshly. Cherry just looked sad.

"His pride's been hurt. And I have to tell you that Randy has a lot of pride."

"Then pity his pride."

"I got to go, but I hope y'all be careful. He knows your friends Dallas. I wouldn't put it past Randy to go after them to get to you," Cherry finished. She walked away and got into her Sting Ray and drove off.

We all watched her silently, wondering what we were going to do.

I turned to Dally whose eyes were blazing. He didn't love any of us enough to care that much. Did he?

He said softly, so that I could only hear.

"Next time I use that heater, it's going to be loaded."


	14. Chapter 14

Darry and Soda and the gang were full of questions after that visit from Cherry.

Johnny and I told them what happened at the Dingo, leaving out the part about the heater. I also left out the part about my anonymous phone call to the cops.

Essentially, Dallas and I were responsible for the predicament we were in, in which we could be jumped any time by those Socs. I wasn't going to let my brothers know but I felt the need to tell Dally. I always felt the need to tell the truth to him because I sensed that he always already knew what it was. Those eyes had seen far too much not to see through smoke screens and cut to the raw core.

I walked next to him as we left the vacant lot. The others were far ahead which gave me a chance to speak to him.

"I'm the one who called the cops on Randy, Dally." He stopped to look at me. I closed my eyes waiting for him to belt me because that's what his eyes told me he was going to do.

"Good going, kid. Ain't the smartest move on your part 'cause of your brothers and all, but somebody needed to do it. Even if it didn't do nothin'," he said. I opened my eyes while he was talking and now was surprised. He thought it was a good idea?

"I'm surprised they followed up on the tip. I thought the case would just run cold," I said. He chuckled.

"Ponyboy, it IS cold. You heard what the redhead said, they let him off. You can't just decide to change things and expect things to happen."

"I know that but-," I started but he cut me off.

"You should know by now that those Socs got enough cash and power to go through the bureaucracy of everything. Randy's folks are probably as well connected as the sonofabitch Sheldon's."

"You think they'll find out it's me who made the call?" He started laughing bitterly.

"No. They're too fuckin' lazy to do anything about the case. Yours is probably the only lead they had and they just talked to him to find out which Greaser had something to do with it. Smarten up, Pony," Dally said. I wanted to poke his eyes out for laughing at me. He could be such an ass sometimes. I changed the subject.

"The heater…are you really loading it?" We had reached my house and the others were already inside, making noise.

"Do I look like a liar to you?"

His words were never empty.

"What if something happens to the rest of us," I said. He lit up a weed passed it to me and lit one up for himself. His face was that of someone who was thinking hard. I didn't look directly into his eyes because I didn't want him to see how scared I was.

"Y'all can handle them. They're a bunch of dingbats," he said.

"Who knifed me last year and murdered Angela Shepard," I pointed out. He glared at me. He didn't like to be wrong.

"I ain't afraid of them. They're about as intimidating as a bunch of squirrels."

I asked something that was really manipulative then.

"What if they go after Johnny?"

Dally got real quiet.

"If y'all are smart, y'all equip yourselves with heaters or blades. Redhead's right. They fight cheap and dirty and you need to do the same. There's no 'be the better person' deal in this. You fight on their level. Only better," he said. He stared directly into my eyes then. They were more than a little scary.

"My words are just as loaded as this heater I'm carryin' around will be. If anything happens, I'll do what's necessary."

Survival of the fittest. Dally was saying he cared enough about us to go to prison or end up in the electric chair. Was it for us, or for justice, or for the fact he simply couldn't care less about his future? I heard it from Soda that Dally would end up somewhere alone, but that didn't mean it had to happen.

I didn't ask him anymore questions though. We stayed in silence, smoking, then Dally took off. I watched him walk away, worried. When I entered the house, everybody stared at me.

"What were you and Dallas doing out there?" Darry asked.

"Just having a weed."

"You should have told us he left. Two-Bit could have given him a ride," he said in the voice that indicated I wasn't using my head. I gave him a dirty look. Dally had a heater on him…and the thought dawned on me. He was either extremely safe by carrying it or dead meat if he was caught. Those were the extremes but this was Dallas Winston. His entire life swung on a wide pendulum with nothing in between. He was the danger to society. Society had nothing on Dally when he was blazing with feeling. I was finding out more about him. I could see why Johnny worshipped him. And I could understand why Cherry Valance had looked at him they way she did. There was nobody else in the world like Dally.

"So they're gunnin' for us now. Those bastards are actually coming after us," Steve said softly. My fear was probably written all over my face. Two-Bit started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I just think it's funny to have a group of Socies running after us with their pants all hiked up and stinkin' of cologne and wearing those ugly jackets of theirs. It's just a funny vision, is all. There's nothin' to worry about. We can whip them. If we could whip Shepard's unit, we can take care of these guys." That had some truth to it, I supposed.

"Shepard's fight fair though. Socs gang up twenty guys to one," I said. I remembered the blade I had carried all through last year. It had disappeared on me but I could always get another one.

"How do we know we can trust this Cherry Valance, anyhow?" Steve asked.

"Because she's been right about everything else," I said.

"She's a Socer. Right in between being a Soc and a Greaser. She doesn't pick sides. I wonder what's in it for her."

"Probably her conscience."

"Thank god our girls are simpler than that. They're loyal to us and don't drive around town alerting everybody to trouble that's happening. We're all better off not knowing what the plans of those Socs are," Steve said. That was also true. It didn't help my depression one bit.

"If you listen to me, Ponyboy, and we all stick together, we should be okay. I want to have a talk with their leader. Randy, is it? If his beef is with Dally, then they should fight with each other. Don't drag everybody else into it," Darry said.

"They need to bring others into it. They're too cowardly to fight individually. We've seen that in the past," Two-Bit said, sounding serious for once.

"Rationalizing with them ain't gonna work, Darry," I said, sour over the fact he singled me out. He flexed his muscles. Soda sat and watched all of us quietly as did Johnny. Both of them expressing worry through their eyes.

"Well, we're just going to have to see what happens," Steve said. He took a bite of chocolate cake and turned to the TV. We all watched the television with various expressions on our faces. Two-Bit looked crocked (he currently had a beer of can in his hand), Steve looked angry, Soda looked concerned, Johnny looked scared, and Darry looked intense.

I needed my pill.

* * *

"Aaaarrrrgghhh!" I woke up, dripping. Soda jerked awake and soon Darry and Johnny came in, switching on the lights.

"Ponyboy!" I shook my head, breathing shallow breaths, eyes burning with the sudden brightness.

"What's the matter Ponyboy? Is it another nightmare?" Darry asked. I nodded, miserable.

"Have you told Doctor Gates about this?" Sodapop asked. I nodded again.

"It's the probably the stress that's causing this. Remember you had these same nightmares after mom and dad died," Darry said.

"I'll be okay. I probably need to do more, like play more football or something. That's what Gates said. I'm just thinkin' too much. I'll be okay and I'm sorry for waking y'all up," I said. Darry rubbed the back of his head and didn't say anything.

"I thought me sleeping with you would cure you of it," Soda said. It had, to a certain point.

"It's nothin'. I swear. Just…ignore it," I said. They all turned to me with incredulous looks on their faces. Ignore somebody who screamed like a banshee in the middle of the night. Who was I kidding?

"I promise it'll get better. Go back to sleep. It'll get better." Darry and Johnny, both looking worn out left, left reluctantly. Soda threw an arm across me.

"It'll be okay Ponyboy. There's nothin' to worry about. Darry and I will protect you."

But who would protect them?


	15. Chapter 15

The first day of school flew by. I was in all of the A classes which were filled with Socs, a fact they found amusing. As I sat in my classes, I wondered dully what the point of showing up even was because we did virtually nothing except introduce ourselves. I hated standing up and speaking in front of my classmates because I knew they were laughing at me.

I managed to get through the day in one piece and when classes ended, I met up with Johnny in the parking lot. We walked over to Two-Bit's car and smoked while waiting for him.

While we were talking, a Socy car revved its engine and suddenly ended up beside us. One guy stuck his head out the window. He looked familiar.

"Hey Greasies!" he called. We ignored him and carried on with our conversation. Doors slammed and soon we were facing three Socs. One of whom was Randy. He regarded us with pure disgust. His two buddies came forward and the next thing I knew, I was doubled over in pain from a hard punch to the gut.

"Quick, get them in the car," Randy ordered. I was being pulled along the ground and was thrown into the back seat of the car. Johnny was pushed in after me. The Socs got in on either side of us, Randy in the front, and we were speeding out of the lot. I started swearing at them.

"Y'all are a bunch of cowards," I sneered. I was rewarded with a blow to my temple that made the world explode into stars.

"Pony!" Johnny cried.

"What the fuck is a Pony?"

"It's his real name. His parents must've hated him or something." I got really angry then.

"At least we're tuff enough to fight our own fights. Y'all gang up twenty to one and still manage to lose," I said harshly.

"Shut him up," Randy said.

"Go fuck yourself," said Johnny and I looked over in surprise. Johnny was then gripped around the neck in a chokehold and I heard him gasping for air. I reached over to pry the Soc's arm loose and was jerked back and held.

"Let him go!" I yelled.

"Nope," the Soc said continuing to hold onto Johnny.

"Where. Are. Y'all. Taking. Us?" Johnny managed to gasp out.

"Somewhere where we can kick the tar out of you too. And don't worry about your friend Dallas Winston. He's next," Randy said.

"This is between you and Dallas, why don't you fight him one on one?" I asked. Randy didn't answer.

"Hurry up," he said instead to the driver. I felt nauseous. The air was filled with English Leather and it plugged up my nose. The driving didn't help the situation, it was even worse than Two-Bit's. We were on a dirt road and whizzing by trees. Finally, the driver began to slow down and we reached a clearing. I couldn't hold back any longer so I leaned over and wretched all over the Soc next to me.

"Oh for Christ's sake. The idiot puked all over me," he said, revolted. The others began laughing.

"Serves you right," said one of the other Socs. We stopped and I was dragged from the car. The Soc I vomited on knocked me to the ground and was kicking my side and believe me, it hurt like hell.

"That's what you get for ruining a $50 shirt, asshole," the Soc said. My eyes were closed and I was grimacing in pain, balled up on the ground. I was hauled up by the collar of my shirt and given a punch to the side of my head. I couldn't see straight and my body was spiked with pain.

"Johnny," I cried out weakly. I tried to turn to see if he was okay but I was being pummeled. Suddenly, the air was split with the sound of a gunshot. The Soc let go of me and I dropped to the ground. I lay still. I heard footsteps coming for me and I braced for a blow. But that didn't come. Instead it was a hand on my shoulder.

"I ain't kidding. Y'all are going to let us go and if you don't, I ain't scared to blow you to bits," Johnny said in a hard voice. Johnny had a gun?

"Johnny," I moaned.

"Take it easy Ponyboy. I'm here. These fools aren't going to hurt us-," he said and he broke off. I opened my eyes and saw Johnny and Randy struggling with the gun. I struggled to sit up, wincing with pain. They were still fighting.

"Get the gun from him," Randy shouted. Johnny wasn't letting go. He was fighting with everything he had to keep the gun from getting into Randy's hands. I blinked twice before my vision cleared and began crawling to them.

"Oh no you don't." And I was knocked back down. The gun suddenly went off.

"Oh fuck!"

I turned my head and saw Johnny laying on the ground, and Randy holding the gun with his hand, staring in shock.

"Johnny!" I cried. He didn't respond. I yelled his name again and got up and crawled toward him. He was flat on his back and on his white teeshirt was a giant splatter of blood, with more spreading beneath him. His eyes were closed.

"Come on! Let's split! We have to dump this somewhere," Randy said, a mix of desperation and shock in his voice. I began sobbing.

"Johnny, man, wake up! Johnny!" I was screaming. I heard mad scrambling around and the vroom of the car. It pulled out quickly and was soon leaving the clearing. I swore at them and looked down at my best friend. I lifted his body and held it against me, drenching us both in blood.

"Johnnycake, you're going to open your eyes. You ain't gonna die. I won't let you," I said. I began rocking back and forth, tears leaking from my eyes, and I prayed to God. I had no idea what to do.

Please Johnny, don't die. Please.

* * *

I walked a few more steps, stopped, walked a few more, stopped, collapsed, started again. It went on like this for nearly a mile. I had Johnny in my arms and he was heavy. His body was stiff as a board. I was numb with shock and pain. I didn't know which end was up. I just knew I had the dead body of my best friend in my arms. Johnny. Dead. It was as if the world stopped turning, the sky had turned black, my surroundings razor sharp, and blood was flowing from every corner. Wait a goddamn minute. No. Johnny wasn't dead. He couldn't be.

"Hey Johnny," I said, looking down at him and smiling.

"How you doin' buddy? We're gonna get you to a hospital where the doctors will fix you up good and we'll go back to my place and have dinner and eat chocolate cake, right Johnny?" I continued walking with him in my arms, and talking to him as if nothing had changed. Because nothing HAD changed. Johnny was alive and we would go straight back to playing football and poker and we'd have our long conversations and nothing would be different. It was getting dark and we were still on the dirt road, but I could see the end of it. I saw cars whizzing back and forth, their lights blinking in the dark.

"See Johnny. Somebody's going to take us to the hospital and everything will be just fine," I assured him. He was getting heavier with every step but I ignored the dragging pull of my arms and continued forward. When we got to the paved road, I started waving my arms madly. I walked backward, forward, carried him, propped him against my legs, panic growing steadily with each minute, and did this for maybe thirty minutes when a car finally stopped.

"Hey kid, you need a ride?" a kindly man said.

"Yeah. Me and my friend. It's an emergency and we have to get to the hospital. He's been shot," I said, trying to suppress the fright in my voice. The man got out and took a look at Johnny. He put his fingers to his neck and took a deep breath.

"Here kid, give me a hand," said the man. We loaded Johnny into the back seat and I got in the front.

"Thanks mister. I mean that a lot," I said.

"I ain't gonna leave you out here in the dark, kid. How long were you standing there for?"

"About half an hour?" The man whistled and cursed softly to himself.

"I don't know about people these days," he said. We drove the rest of the way in silence, my heart racing nonstop. When we got to the hospital, I ran inside to find a nurse. I waved one down as she walked down the corridor.

"Please, my friend's been shot. I need help. Now," I said, probably sounding as desperate as I felt. Swift action followed. A team of people came out with a stretcher and Johnny was placed on it quickly. I said thank you to the man and he took off. I followed them as far as I could, but a nurse stopped me and told me to wait in a room filled with plastic chairs.

"Please, can't I go in?" I asked.

"I need to see him. I need to know he's gonna be okay." The nurse shook her head.

"We'll have to contact his family," was all she said. His family? They didn't give a rat's ass about Johnny. Johnny was not dead. Maybe he wasn't breathing before but they'll revive him.

"Now where are you hurt?" she asked. Hurt?

"I'm fine," I said then realization dawned on me. I was beaten, bruised, and splotched with blood.

"A doctor will come and check on you too. You may have to answer a few questions from the police as well."

"Can I make a phone call first?"

I went to the pay phone. Darry picked up.

"Ponyboy! Where the hell are you?" he demanded angrily.

"I'm at the hospital Darry. Can you get here as fast as you can?"

"Hospital? Ponyboy? Are you alright?" he asked, his voice changing.

"The hospital Darry. Just get here. And tell the gang to come too."

"Alright. Just hang in there Ponyboy. We'll all be right there."


	16. Chapter 16

I was in the waiting room when the gang showed up. I had been left alone too long and too many dark thoughts had passed through my head. I had started weeping at one point and didn't care who was watching me. I was only thinking one thing; please Johnny, please be okay. I had been treated with a mild concussion and bruised ribs and was sitting on a plastic chair with my head down when my name was called. I stood up and saw Darry and Soda hurrying toward me. Darry enveloped me in a hug and when I yelped, he stopped taking a step backward.

"What's wrong Ponyboy? What happened?" he demanded.

"It's my ribs, Darry," I said. The boys came running in, Dally, Steve, and Two-Bit. I looked at all of them, frightened. They all looked worried, even Dally.

"They kidnapped us and they jumped us."

"Where's the kid?" Dally asked. I bit my lip and looked at them all with watery eyes.

"He's been shot. He…he wasn't breathing when they brought him in," I said. But that didn't mean he was dead.

"He's not dead though. Johnny ain't dead," I said, feeling a little hysterical.

"I'm fine. Johnny's gonna be fine. Everybody's fine." They exchanged glances amongst each other.

"We need to contact his folks. They won't release any information to me," I said. Darry pulled himself up.

"I'll see what I can do," he said and marched over to the main desk.

"Who did this?" Two-Bit asked.

"Randy and his buddies. Johnny had a gun. I have to speak to the police," I said, fearful. Dallas began swearing a blue streak, something about Buck Merril. His eyes were blazing with rage. I couldn't look at him and not feel afraid. Soda looked me over.

"Is this Johnny's blood?" he asked, gesturing to my shirt. I nodded. He gripped my by my elbow and lowered me into a seat. His eyes were dark with feeling, intensity.

"We should've known this would happen," Steve said. Two-Bit echoed that sentiment. Dally came back.

"They're getting into contact with his parents. They won't tell me anything," he said. I wanted to pull my hair out.

"I know he's fine, Darry," I said firmly. It made me feel better to say that. Two uniformed police men came into view and began walking towards me.

"Ponyboy Curtis," one said in a deep, gravelly voice. I nodded.

"You need to come with us," said the other. I stood up, terrified at the idea of being interrogated.

"Can we come with him? We're his brothers," Darry said putting a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm afraid not," the policeman said and gestured toward me. We walked down the corridor and into a room. There was a metal desk and chairs. I sat down in a chair and one policeman sat down in front of me. The other leaned against the wall.

"It's okay Ponyboy, there's no need to be afraid. We just want to find out what happened with you and Mr. Cade," he said. I told them the truth. Most of it. All except when it came to the gun, I said I didn't know who had it first. I couldn't risk Johnny getting into trouble.

"…and the gun went off and Johnny went down. Randy was pointing it right at him. They talked about getting rid of it before they left," I finished. The policeman continued to jot down notes.

"Are we in trouble?" I asked. The policeman looked at my sympathetically.

"You're not. Don't worry," he said. I didn't feel reassured. If Johnny had brought the gun, they'd want to know who it came from. He would get busted for possession of a weapon. I struggled with what I had to say because any loose lipped mistake could result in serious trouble for Johnny. They kept me for half an hour, asking what seemed like meaningless questions and I answered as truthfully as I could. When I left the interrogation room, I made my way back to the waiting area where the gang was.

"Are you alright Ponyboy?" asked Darry. I looked at him and shrugged. How okay could I be when my best friend was in the ER with a bullet in his chest and my ribs all taped up. I winced and sat down in a chair. I noticed that Dally was missing.

"Where'd Dally go?"

"Who knows? Either to cool off or to kill somebody," Two-Bit said. I was worried about that. Johnny and Dally shared a special relationship. Dally's emotions were volatile and volcanic and I always suspected he was on the verge of blowing up. I didn't want to be around him when it happened. But I had a feeling I would be. I needed to be.

"How do you feel Ponyboy? Did they hurt you bad?" Soda asked. I breathed out.

"Not as bad as they hurt Johnny. I'm peachy keen compared to him," I said. I didn't feel like talking. I didn't want to believe what I already knew. It just wasn't possible. I felt like I was in a police show on television. I stood suddenly, then grimaced, as I recognized Johnny's mother coming out of one of the doors. She was a tough looking woman. She saw us and came over, her face hard as nails.

"My boy is dead because of you. You low-lives were always a bad influence on him. No wonder he was such a screw up, hanging around the likes of you!" she snapped. I fell back onto the seat.

Johnny. Dead.

Darry stood and tried to talk to her but she cut him off.

"You should be sued for the lives you lead, you worthless piles of shit!" she said, her voice breaking at the end. She caught herself before she could break down and suddenly grabbed at her heart.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" Soda asked taking a step toward her. A nurse came rushing over, hearing the commotion. She grabbed Mrs. Cade by the arm and led her away.

"He's dead," Two-Bit said softly. Steve was sniffling and wiping at his eyes. Soda made a small sound and looked like he was going to start bawling. Darry had a helpless expression on his face. I sat in the chair, feeling absolutely nothing at first. A huge black wave of feeling then swept over me and I began to cry.

"Oh fuck…he ain't dead, man. He ain't dead," I said over and over again and Soda put his arm around me. It was at that moment that Dallas came in. He saw us, put two and two together, and stormed out.

"Dallas!" Steve called. Dally didn't look back.

"If anything's gonna push Dallas Winston over the edge, this is it," Two-Bit stated, looking shocked out of his system. I was crying earnestly into Soda's shoulder. I had known Johnny was dead in my gut, but to have it officially confirmed, that was another matter. I got up, feeling overcome with rage, and went over to the wall and began slamming my fist into it.

"No, Johnny, No," I wailed. Someone was grabbing me from behind.

"Stop it, Ponyboy!" It was Darry. I looked at him, and fell into his arms. He held me tight, like he wasn't ever going to let go. His heart was racing and he was breathing harshly.

"I'm sorry Ponyboy, but he's gone."

* * *

We got back to the house and we all sat down or stood, smoking cigarettes. Even Soda had one. I had my eyes closed and I was sucking in the cigarette air like it was oxygen. Johnny was never going to come into this house again. Johnny was never going to play football with us. Johnny was never going to have a long conversation in the country. Johnny, my best friend, was dead from a single bullet to the chest. I felt my body close up, tense, and I put down the cigarette and put my head between my knees. That motion hurt my ribs and my head was killing me but I didn't care. I couldn't handle the reality of this. It was too much to bear.

"Johnny," I whispered. I felt a hand on my back, rubbing it gently.

"It's gonna be okay Pony. I promise it'll be," Soda was saying.

"We're going to get those Socs back," Steve said, hatred piercing his voice.

"Not if Dallas gets to them first," I heard Two-Bit say. Dallas. I had forgotten about him. I sat up slowly.

"He's gonna pull a Shepard," I said.

"We have to get to him before he does then," Darry said.

"He said something about Buck Merril, didn't he?" Steve wanted to know. Johnny had obtained a gun from somewhere and Buck was the most reasonable answer.

"He might be at Merril's?" Two-Bit said. I looked around at all of them. We'd already lost one friend tonight. Would we lose another?

"Let's give Buck a call," Darry said. He got up and went into the kitchen. We all watched him as he got on the phone and began dialing. There was a moment, then Buck picked up.

"Hello Buck? Hi, it's Darrel Curtis. I'm just wondering if you've seen Dallas tonight?"

"You have? He gave you a what? Where did he say he was headed?" Darry listened intently.

"Okay. Thanks Buck. Bye." Darry turned to face us.

"He beat up Buck for giving Johnny the gun. Dally's lost his mind, completely. Buck doesn't know where he's gone to," Darry said. I could only guess where he was headed.

"He doesn't have Randy's address, does he?"

"I don't think so," I said. I pictured Johnny in my head, his sad eyes looking at me, heavily greased hair against his forehead, and began to cry again.

"Fuck this!" I said, stood up, and walked out the front door. I began running. I was in serious pain and the street was slipping in and out of my vision, but I had to get out of there. I heard my named called. I didn't care. I needed to leave. Somebody caught up with me and wrenched me around. It was Soda. He wrapped his arms around me and let me bawl into his shoulder. The emotional pain lanced through me and I felt myself slipping to the ground. Soda fell down too and we stayed there, in the middle of the street, and I wept for my best friend.


	17. Chapter 17

I didn't go to school the next day. I was both in agony and in exhaustion from all the crying that I did. We waited to hear from Dally but there was nothing. In between bawling for Johnny and worrying about Dallas, I was in excruciating physical pain. Our lives had turned upside down with a vicious pitch black that was spinning around like a tornado. I was barely functional. I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.

Soda was rustling around, getting ready for work. He kept glancing over at me, looking worried. I didn't say anything. It felt like there was a vise clamped on my head being squeezed gradually.

I was death in a living body.

I heard Darry come in.

"Pony, Two-Bit's gonna stay with you today," he said. I didn't respond. I didn't care if somebody stayed or if everybody left. The only person I wanted around was Johnny. I heard Soda and Darry murmuring to each other and then Sodapop came over and sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on my shoulder. I continued to stare at the ceiling, clenching my teeth with the pain I felt.

There was no out.

"Ponyboy…," he said before drifting off. I think he knew as well as I did that no words could help the situation. I felt a familiar lump in my throat. Sodapop just squeezed my shoulder and stood up.

"We'll be back soon. Hang in there, Ponyboy," he said. How could he take it? Our friend died last night and he seemed too cool, which was unlike Soda. There was something surreal about everything that was happening. Nothing made sense. The world zigzagged in and out of my vision and I couldn't handle the crazy state that I was in.

I heard Darry and Soda leave the room and eventually the front door slammed shut. Two-Bit wandered in with two glasses of chocolate milk. I looked away from the ceiling and stared at him. There was no wisecracking this morning. He had been hit hard too and it showed in the tense, tiredness on his face.

"You don't have to drink it now. I just brought it in, in case you get thirsty," he said. He sat down on the bed with his shoulders pulled in.

"I can't believe it. I just can't. We were just playin' football with Johnny. That was just yesterday," Two-Bit said. He looked over at me, pain etched on his face.

"I wonder where Dally is. I wonder how he's doin. If we're fallin' to pieces, I can't imagine how he is." I stayed silent, wishing Two-Bit would be quiet. I didn't want to hear any of it. He went on.

"It ain't fair. Johnny didn't do nothin' those fucking idiots. Johnny was always the quiet one, you know? He didn't hurt nobody, didn't touch nobody. Always kept his mouth shut around the fuzz. He was our buddy and he didn't do a single thing to deserve this." He ran a finger down his rusty sideburns and sighed. He looked me in the eyes.

"Pony, you know that they might start askin' questions again, right? The state I mean," he said. My eyes returned to the ceiling. I hadn't thought about that. Why did he have to mention it now? I could feel my eyes tear up and I blinked quickly. Two-Bit was oblivious. He let out a huge breath.

"Plannin' on leaving that bed anytime soon, Ponyboy?" I didn't say anything.

"Guess not. I'm gonna be watchin' tv in the other room if you need anything," he said and left the room. I wasn't planning on leaving this bed anytime soon at all. I could care less if I spent the rest of my life in it.

* * *

I turned to the side to see the chocolate powder residue sinking to the bottom of the chocolate milk Two-Bit brought in that morning. It was now late afternoon and Two-Bit was still watching TV while I lay in bed. He had come to check in on me a few times but I was too dazed to pay attention to him. I was trying hard to not think about what had happened. It helped to deny that Johnny was dead. I just needed to repeat to myself that he wasn't gone. Nobody was going to disappear from my life just like that, the way my parents did. Nothing of that sort could happen again. It was too cruel.

I curled up inside the covers and tried to ignore the throbbing in my head and in my side. Suddenly, the front door opened and slammed shut. I heard Two-Bit's and another voice, both getting louder and louder. My eyes were wide with shock when Dally came bursting in. He looked horrible. His clothes were ragged, his collar had a dried, reddish stain on it, and he had scruff on his chin. His eyes were wild.

"Ponyboy, we have to get movin," he said. I sat up, grimacing. Two-Bit had come in and he looked as shocked as I did.

"Dallas-," Two-Bit started but Dally silenced him with a glare.

"Git out of bed, Ponyboy. We have somewhere to go."

"He ain't goin' nowhere. Darry'd bust open my head if I let him out of the house," Two-Bit said. Dally didn't listen to him. He came around and yanked me out of bed.

"Arrgh!"

He didn't stop to see if I was all right. Two-Bit looked on helplessly. Dally pulled me out of the room, down the hall and soon, we were sitting in Buck's T-Bird. He gunned the engine and we were speeding down the street. He wiped his face with his hand. I was too overwhelmed with grief and pain to question what was happening.

"We're gonna get them back for this," Dally said. I looked dazedly at him.

"Dally, I already told the police what happened." He glanced over at me.

"The police won't do nothin'. They'll just say it was an accident."

"It WAS an accident, Dally," I said, shifting in my seat. I hated Dally more than ever right now. He was forcing me to confront a reality I didn't want to face.

"Shepard's got it right." I didn't have to ask him what he meant by that. Dally was on the warpath and I was his passenger. I was pretty sure he didn't care at all where he ended up, as long as he got revenge. Or an antidote for his pain.

"There's nothing you can do now," I said tiredly. He gave me a vicious look. I just stared out the window. I wanted too exhausted to cry. What could I possibly say to Dallas that wouldn't be a lie to myself? I didn't want to admit that Johnny was gone but I was dealing with Dally's emotions too, combined with mine making it extra hard to cope with. Dally was on fire. I had to extinguish it before he killed us both.

"We have to do somethin'. For Johnny," he said, scrubbing his face with one hand.

"What can we do, Dally?"

"We're gonna kill those motherfuckers." I turned to stare out the window. More violence, more death. I understood it though.

"So you can end up like Shepard?" At that, Dally's jaw worked. He was too consumed with his goal to think about the repercussions of it. I couldn't talk Tim Shepard out of ruining his life, what could possibly make me think I had a chance of saving Dallas Winston's?

"This isn't what Johnny would have wanted."

"Kid, what do you know about what Johnny wanted?" I was about to say something along the lines of, I knew him better than you did, but thought better of it.

"We're all suffering from this, Dally. But we ain't about to make things worse by going after those Socs. Let the police do their job Dally. That should be enough." That latter bit, I knew wasn't going to cut it. Dally had intense feelings and intense feelings about revenge. Johnny was the only person he ever loved and to have him killed just like that…

"Killing them won't bring him back, Dally. It'll only worsen things. You gotta listen to me. Johnny wouldn't want you to end up in the slammer for the rest of your life, for God's sake Dally. Don't fuck up your life because it's the last thing he would have wanted for you," I said harshly. Dally pinched his mouth shut. I wasn't sure if I was getting through to him or not. We were driving through the West Side now. The car suddenly screeched and we mounted a curb. Dally bent his head against the steering wheel. I looked over and slowly, reached out my hand and placed it on his shoulder.

"You're not the only one to have lost him, Dally. But we gotta do things the right way. They deserve everything they're gonna get and worse. They won't get let off for something like this. The best thing you can do is walk away." He turned to glare at me.

"Walk away? That ain't how it's done, kid. It's an eye for an eye out there. You don't just let things go when something like this happen," he said, pain in his voice. I closed my eyes and leaned against the seat. I was trying to reason with the devil. I knew it was Him because I was wrestling with Him too. I, too, wanted to commit murder. Some improbable force was resisting that urge though. I wasn't lacking in passion, but it was being suppressed by my exhaustion and resignation. I once thought I would commit murder if somebody I loved was taken from me, but now, I didn't know. It's one thing to want to do it yourself. It's another when you're watching somebody else geared up to do it. On my own, perhaps I would have gone to the Socs myself. But I was with Dally now, and somehow, that made reason come to be. It suddenly occurred to me that I cared more for Dallas Winston than I ever thought possible. Even though he was wrapping barbed wire around my frail, wounded body by pushing the truth of Johnny's death to the surface. Dally leaned back into his seat, breathing deeply. After a while, he turned to face me.

"Git out," he said. I stared at him.

"What?"

"I don't think you want to be around when I do what I'm gonna do, kid." He had piercing eyes, Dally did.

"I probably don't but I ain't leavin' this car, Dallas Winston," I said. He cursed to himself, and gripped the steering wheel.

"You have your way of seein' things. I have my way. And the truth is, my way is pretty fucking gruesome and ugly. You're gonna wish you got out when I told you, kid." I looked at him, straight on. So this is how it was going to be. If I used my head, I would have gotten out and ran screaming.

No, we were in this together.

"I can handle it, Dally. Do what you need to do." And Dallas Winston stepped on the gas pedal and we were driving purposefully to his destination.


End file.
